


Alone in Your Mind

by james



Series: Alone In Your Mind [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Technology, Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 37,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carson Beckett encounters a piece of Ancient technology which changes his life in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Archiving an older work.

Prologue

One very important thing Elizabeth Weir had done when preparing her team for the mission to Atlantis was consider the social aspects of taking 200 people to another galaxy from which they might not ever return home. She'd discussed it with some of the SGC psychologists and anthropologists, as well as General Hammond and in the end she'd drafted a revised code of conduct based in extremely small part on the US Air Force's code of conduct as applied to the SGC. 

Things like rules against fraternization had had to be re-written to deal with the fact that 200 people alone together, far from home, were eventually going to start having sex with one another. If it turned out to be years before they returned to Earth the issue of families and succeeding generations had to be taken into account as well. No one talked about it yet, but it might be that their children or grandchildren would be the ones to return to Earth someday.

That meant there had to be children and grandchildren.

Individual members of her team had been selected based on expertise and adaptability, as well as psychological profile and personality. It was impossible to ensure that everyone would get along, but she'd taken every step she could to ensure that most of the team would at least tolerate everyone else and be professional and mature enough to deal with the fact they were stuck with each other indefinitely.

She'd taken pride in seeing how well her selections had turned out as the months went on and, for the most part, everyone seemed to get on. Of course there were personality conflicts and disputes, but nothing that disrupted the overall mission or social stability of the city. 

It was rapidly becoming their home in feel, as well as reality -- they'd been in Atlantis for little under a year based on the earth calendars their laptops kept track of for them. The holidays committee had a huge anniversary celebration planned, coinciding with the planet's autumnal equinox. People were celebrating birthdays and organizing social events -- and forming relationships, both casual and not-so. 

Dr. Weir had her suspicions that sometime in the next few months they were going to be holding a wedding for Dr. Carol Bennett and Corporal Lance Mason. Or maybe Robert DeBauer and Frederick Danson would be the first, if they could ever agree on which part of the newly-opened section of the city they wanted to make their new living quarters in. Living together was not a necessary step to being married, but Dr. Weir felt that it was still an open question if Robert and Frederick would end up strangling one another while arguing over whether or not they wanted living quarters with windows, or an extra room. 

All in all, Dr. Weir felt like everything was going extremely well. 

She'd even -- almost -- got used to finding John and Rodney making out in the hallways.

There were many things she was glad for and trying to keep levels of closed-minded bigotry out of the Atlantis team was high on the list. She prided herself on a reasonably high personal level of acceptance of the rights to individuals to do whatever they damn well pleased in their private lives. But it still didn't ever prevent her brain from stuttering to a stop and asking itself -- *John* and *Rodney*? -- whenever she caught them.

And lord, it seemed like she caught them a lot. Sometimes she thought about instituting rules about public displays of affection, and forbidding anyone from making out where she was likely to stumble upon them. That wasn't entirely fair, she knew, so she was perfectly willing to make it a very specific rule applicable only to the major and Dr. McKay.

She thought very seriously about it whenever John pissed her off. Which, once he'd started sleeping with Rodney, had become less often. She knew it was more because he had less time to get into trouble than the fact that Rodney might actually be being a good influence on him. 

In the end, however, she just told herself she should be happy that so many of her team were settling in to Atlantis, finding friends and more among the available pool, and that Dr. Piotr Vordrosky had finally taken her hints that she was not interested in having dinner with him in the privacy of his quarters.

********

"Dr. Gallagher, would you please--" Carson Beckett stopped as he realized the woman was ignoring him. He stepped closer to the table, well aware of the danger in getting too close to a scientist at work. He carefully didn't touch anything, nor did he try to get in her line of sight as she scribbled notes. "Dr. Gallagher," he tried again.

She glanced up. "Yes, Dr. Beckett? Oh! Dr. Beckett, could you please--" She rummaged through the equipment on the table before her, and Carson's hopes that she would have any idea why he was here were dashed.

"Dr. Gallagher," he started again. "I know it may not seem all that urgent that you get your regular physical," he paused as she thrust a small metal band at him. It was a piece of Ancient technology which made him realise exactly what she was going to say next. He shook his head. "No, no--"

"Could you try to make this work? I haven't had a chance to get any of the other ATA folks down here. I'm not really sure what it does," she added, frowning at it. 

As though that would encourage him? Carson shook his head, still wary of anything to do with technology he didn't understand. He'd got used to certain, simple things -- like doors. But a small, curved piece of metal might look innocent yet could end up destroying half the galaxy.

"You missed your appointment last week, and this morning. I really need you to--" 

"Just try it on! We're pretty sure it fits on the wrist." She'd stood up and come over to him, grabbing his arm and moving the band towards him -- obviously intending to slip it on without so much as a by-your-leave. He pulled free and tried to get her attention.

"Dr. Gallagher, your *physical.* I'll get Dr. McKay to order you, if I have to." Between alien diseases, injuries, and god knew what else, it was important to keep up-to-date records on everyone's health. Most of the others understood and showed up for their scheduled appointments. It was only the occasional absent-minded professor who seemed to forget.

She blinked at him, looking thoroughly confused behind her thin-rimmed glasses. "Dr. McKay? What's he got to do with it?"

"He's your superior, isn't he? He can order you to get yourself down to the infirmary."

"Why am I going -- oh! My physical!" She nodded, and Carson sighed. "Right, that's next week! I think this will fit just like this--"

Carson was about to try to explain to her that next week was *this* week, or even last week, when she grabbed his arm again. He pulled back, but this time he wasn't fast enough. She got the band onto his wrist before he got free.

The metal, or whatever the substance was, felt cold. As he reached for it to snatch it off, he noted that it fit loosely. When his fingers touched it, the top of the band glowed blue and the ends of the band tightened around his wrist.

"Oh, bloody hell," Carson whispered. He stared at it. The band changed, expanding a long, thin strip up and down the back of his wrist. It was that part which glowed blue, as though a stone had been set into a bracelet.

"Oh, excellent!" Dr. Gallagher clapped her hands. "So what is it? Can you make it do anything?"

Carson wanted nothing more than to take it off and never see it again. He looked up at Gallagher, swallowing nervously. "It's...a maintenance interface."

"A what? How do you know?" She'd grabbed a notebook and started writing things down.

Carson was having difficulty seeing her through the schematics and lists that were scrolling before his eyes. Atlantis had gone a long time without an active maintenance crew and there was a long, long list of things that needed to be done. The first few lines had been in the Atlantean script, but as soon as he'd realised he couldn't read it, he'd been given an option to select a translation.

Merely thinking it had been enough and now he was looking at a list written in Scots Gaelic, describing mechanical and engineering problems that needed somebody with two hands and a tool-belt to deal with.

"Dr. Beckett? How do you know what it is? It isn't doing anything." Gallagher's voice intruded through the visuals, and he tried to answer her question.

"I can...see it." 

She looked around, doubtfully. "Where?"

Grimly, Carson tapped his forehead. "Right here."

Gallagher gaped at him for a long moment, before her face changed into an expression of scientific glee.

Carson just wanted the bloody thing to switch off so he could go home and hide under his bed. The schematic responded with an illustration of the furniture in his quarters and how it could be adjusted to accommodate a person his size, underneath its frame.

Closing his eyes, Carson groaned. Which didn't help, because with his eyes shut it was impossible *not* to see the information scrolling in his mind. He tried getting the list to stop by thinking about the fact he was a medical doctor, not a maintenance man. That had prompted a new scroll -- orientation for new personnel. He couldn't help but read it, caught by the information he found in the first 'page' of instructions. He read through it twice, noting absently how responsive it was to the merest thought. He could scroll back and forth and call up new pages as questions occurred.

The summary was, of course, that he was screwed.

*******

"Let me get this straight," Dr. Weir sat back in her chair in the conference room, looking from Dr. Gallagher to Dr. Beckett. Carson had a vaguely distracted look on his face which she assumed was understandable under the circumstances.

"It's intended for a member of the city's maintenance crew," Dr. Gallagher repeated. "It apparently plugs them in directly to aspects of the Atlantis computer system, so they can...maintain it."

"This is extraordinary." Rodney leaned forward, glancing from Carson to Dr. Gallagher. "A neural interface to the Ancients' computer systems would expedite our entire mission here. We could--"

"There aren't any others on inventory," Carson said, sounding distracted. Weir looked at him, worried, and saw that his eyes were flickering slightly back and forth. As though reading something, she realised. He suddenly focused on them. "That's not to say there aren't any, just that they aren't listed in the inventory."

Everyone in the room stared at him with varying degrees of concern. Rodney, for his part, looked not at all concerned. He looked like he was about to leap across the table and snatch the interface from Carson's wrist. Major Sheppard, on the other hand, looked like he was wondering how badly things were going to go and how long before the shit hit the fan completely.

"You...have an inventory?" Weir asked. "Of the equipment in the city?" She found herself growing excited. That, if nothing else, would be an incredible boon.

"Sort of. It's only for official equipment, not for everything anyone might have brought in." He paused, getting the same distracted look in his eyes for a moment. "And it's out-of-date, as far as I can tell. Once the Wraith began their final siege, the people didn't exactly take time for paperwork."

"This is unbelievable." Weir shook her head in amazement. "This is *incredible*."

Rodney interrupted her. "Even a partial inventory of the city would be incredibly useful. If we can--"

Weir had to interrupt him, because Dr. Beckett had looked at him with an expression she couldn't ignore. Rodney seemed to miss it, but she saw the concern -- the fear -- on Carson's face. "Why don't we set up a controlled experiment and let selected personnel access this interface. We can get whatever information we can from it, but safely." She looked at Carson's hands, folded together tightly on top of the conference table. The blue glow was almost unnoticeable under the edge of his sleeve. "Why don't you take it off for now and we'll get volunteers from the ATA pool--"

"I'll do it," Rodney said instantly. Not surprisingly. "We don't need volunteers. I'm right here." He even raised his hand slightly as though anyone might overlook the fact that he was volunteering.

Weir smiled, but tried to interject a note of caution. "We need to make sure--"

"You can't."

They all turned to look at Carson. He looked pale and no less worried than he had since he and Dr. Gallagher had walked into the room.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can't take it off. It's designed to be transfered to another maintenance person in the event the original owner is unable to perform his duties." Carson's voice was wavering slightly, his accent deepening. "Which is in the event of death, catastrophic brain failure, or the destruction of the city itself. At which point no maintenance engineer is required."

*********

Carson read the words again near the beginning of the orientation he'd first called up in Dr. Gallagher's lab. It was stated clearly: the employment contract that he'd effectively signed upon putting on the interface. The Atlanteans had guarded the interfaces well, ensuring that no one who didn't know what he was getting into wore the band.

Those instructions had, along with so much else, been lost. Luckily the actual duties of the job he'd got himself signed up for seemed fairly simple. Keep the city of Atlantis in good repair.

Carson wanted to go back in time and shoot himself in the foot before he'd had a chance to discover the ATA gene sequence. As he thought it, the schematic for time travel flickered helpfully in front of his mind's eye. It wasn't actually useful, as he couldn't use it to go shoot himself, because then he wouldn't have got here to go back in time in the first place. But he filed it away as yet one more thing to look into when he had a chance.

Right now he had to convince the stupid maintenance schedule that he couldn't tear himself away from the meeting and attend to the most urgent items on the repair list. He tried to focus on Dr. Weir and discover if she'd made any decisions on a course of action. 

They were all still discussing it, how and whether to try removing the interface. Whenever they brought it up, he rattled off the relevant data describing the metal band and its link to his mind and how it was designed specifically to prevent exactly what they wanted to do.

It was for the safety of the city, he understood that part. The maintenance crew -- it should have been five or six Atlanteans, not just one Earthling -- had access to every part of the city including life support and defense. Things which could be used to cripple the city if in the hands of the wrong person. The screening procedure for selecting and hiring maintenance crew was -- had been -- extremely stringent.

Dr. Gallagher had apologised for putting it on him. Neither she nor Rodney had actually looked sorry that *someone* had turned the thing on and even Dr. Weir was starting to talk about how it could be useful. Looking on the bright side and all that nonsense.

"You're not in any actual danger?" she asked again and Carson looked away from the diagrams of the water treatment plant that was in need of refit.

"Not from the device, nor the interface itself," he confirmed. "But if it expects me to do all this work... I'll keel over from exhaustion."

Dr. Weir sat forward, looking suddenly more interested. "What you're saying, is that you know what's wrong with the city, and how to fix it?"

Carson watched the others exchange looks. Excited. They were about to leap out of their seats and haul him around, making him fix everything.

It was, he had to admit, safer than having them stumble about flipping switches and hoping nothing blew up. The information being presented to him was, as far as he could tell, accurate and intended to guide the engineer through the necessary repairs and upkeep of the city.

"I'm not an engineer," he said, faintly. 

Rodney, Dr. Weir, and Dr. Gallagher all began talking at once about how they could effect repairs despite that tiny detail.

The scrolling data in his mind began demonstrating the clear, detailed, and graphically augmented step-by-step guide to any system in the city. 

Then it flashed on the top of the repair list, highlighting the first three in a helpful shade of red. 

Carson groaned, and dropped his forehead onto his arm.

end chapter one

***********  
CHAPTER TWO

The first three times, he'd been accompanied by a full contingent of scientists, military personnel, and Earth-trained engineers. They'd watched, taken notes, and asked a thousand irritating questions as Carson tried to follow the Atlantean instructions popping into his head.

He'd managed to repair the solar collector, the filtering system on the water treatment plant, and the internal sensors in the still-uninhabited sections of the city. There were people now assigned to each, studying the equipment and marveling with each other over what he'd done. Other scientists were coming at him with the things they'd been working on, asking him to identify knobs and gizmos, or tell them how to make something work. 

Most of the time he didn't know, because what they were working on wasn't a part of the city itself. Atlantean daily business, scientific experiments and the like, weren't under the maintenance crew's domain. He'd tried to tell them that, but nobody seemed to want to listen as they kept on bringing him things to fiddle with.

As he hid in the unused storage facility near the medical lab, he supposed he couldn't really blame them. Here they were in an ancient alien city, trying to do their best to learn everything they could and suddenly one of their team got handed a user's manual. It wasn't their fault, nor his, that the user's manual covered only a fraction of what they needed to learn.

For instance, he'd already exhausted the interface's database on the Wraith. It had informed him that if the Wraith were spotted, the maintenance crew's job was to take cover until the safety alarms sounded.

Carson found that oddly comforting.

But so far, no amount of insistence could convince everyone else that he couldn't help them, and if he stumbled upon something useful he would let them know. He'd had to take to hiding out, even to the extent of neglecting his work on the genetic research into the Wraith. 

Which was just as well, he confessed to himself. The maintenance schedule in his brain had only slowed down slightly, mollified by his repairs thus far. But the list wasn't shrinking on its own, and he could see -- when he gave it the slightest thought and the list popped into view -- that the top items on the list were growing more urgent.

Perhaps he'd be able to effect some repairs without a crowd following him. Anyone interested was still flocked around the other things he'd worked on, talking about uses for the solar energy now being gathered and stored -- as a backup for the ZPMs, Carson had started to explain. But Rodney had taken over his informed explanation with theorizing of his own; Carson had left him to it, since he'd been more or less correct.

The next few items on the list weren't interesting, anyway, and not even that relevant to what the team from Earth was trying to accomplish. Just little things, here and there, which, if left unattended to, would require major effort to repair sometime down the line.

Carson sighed. He wasn't getting anything done sitting here, alone in the dark. He could use the transporter just down the hall, in fact, and head down to the farmer's level and take a look at the saline vats. If he could get them fixed, they could start harvesting the ocean again for fresh food. Not right away, of course, but in three months or so when the tanks had had a chance to recharge themselves and cull enough of the ocean-life without damaging any population levels of edible species.

Pushing himself to his feet, he gave a dark thought to the data scroll which was giving him a brief overview of the saline vats. He wasn't happy to be doing this, not by a long shot. But at least he could admit it would be useful. 

"Not that what I was doing before wasn't useful," he said out loud, sternly. "I'm a trained medical doctor, and a damn good one. My uncle may have been a plumber, but that does not mean it runs in the family!"

The maintenance schemata for the city's sewer system blinked briefly, and he tamped it down. First things, first. Unless the toilets really did need fixing, in which case they came before the fish.

The plumbing diagrams stayed gone, however, so he took that as a sign that they were good to go. Literally. 

He went to the storage room door and checked for signs of life in the hallway. No one was there, so he opened the door and hurried down to the transporter. The coast was clear as he stepped inside and requested the farmer's level. The directory on the wall flashed, though he hadn't needed to touch it. Not anymore, he knew. The entire city was wired into his brain.

And he'd been nervous about thinking doors open. Carson shivered, and tried not to think about the doors he could probably open, now. Could he, for example, open every doorway at once? Could he open the jumper-bay door? Could he even access the--

"Weir to Dr. Beckett."

Carson jumped, and hurriedly thought about doors *closing*. "Beckett here. I'm sor--"

"Can you join us in Dr. McKay's lab? We found what seems to be some kind of...well, opinions differ. If you--"

"It's a ray gun," Rodney's voice interrupted. 

"It is *not* a ray gun," came Sheppard's voice, sounding irritated. Carson didn't blame him. Rodney was a remarkable scientist but the way he jumped to conclusions..... Irritatingly enough, he was usually right. But the fact he jumped at all, rather than studying a thing before making careful pronouncements, was...irritating.

"It's a ray gun," Rodney repeated. Carson shook his head. He could hear the smugness in Rodney's voice. 

He could hear the rest of it, too. The part he didn't want to hear, had had been hearing ever since the first time his friend had confessed to having a *reciprocated* crush on John Sheppard. It was a whole different sort of smugness, one that said he would be continuing the conversation elsewhere, with a lack of clothing, and that no amount of really mind-boggling sex would make him admit to being wrong. Especially when he wasn't the slightest bit wrong.

Carson liked being Rodney's friend, but he didn't like the fact Rodney felt no compunction against sharing *details*.

"If you could come down here and tell us if this gizmo is in that inventory you have," Weir continued, acting like she couldn't hear the smugness, either. Carson knew she could, and once or twice they'd even commiserated over it. 

Carson, meanwhile, was sighing a sigh of relief. "I'll be right there," he said, so grateful he hadn't apparently opened any doors that he didn't think about the fact he was agreeing to do just what he'd been hiding from. The maintenance systems were so responsive to his every thought that it was a relief to find out there were *some* limits.

Of course there were. Carson hadn't intended to actually open the doors. 

Carson froze in mid-step as he realised that those words hadn't come from *him*, at all.

*********

"Now, calm down," Dr. Weir tried to remain calm herself, so she could encourage Dr. Beckett to do the same.

"IT'S IN MY HEAD!" Carson screamed, jumping up from the stool they'd sat him on. He'd burst through the door, panicking and screaming, startling them all. She still wasn't sure what was going on, but they'd narrowed it down to the maintenance interface. It was difficult to figure out exactly what was wrong, as Carson would shout something in Gaelic, then English, and never in direct response to their questions.

It had taken John and Rodney grabbing him by the arms and hauling him over to the stool to get him to sit down at all, while they'd tried to get coherency from him.

"Don't you understand?" he shouted again, eyes wide, darting from her, to Rodney, and around the room -- hoping, no doubt, that someone would step forward with a solution.

"We're trying to," she said, soothingly. "Now, what's in your head?"

They'd already had it explained, several times since the device had attached itself to Dr. Beckett, that the maintenance displays were inside his brain. He could see them as though displayed on a screen right in front of his eyes, but no one else could see anything at all. Scans performed by Dr. Hathaway had confirmed that the data was contained inside Carson's brain and -- as far as anyone could tell -- were harmless. 

"IT'S TALKING TO ME!" Dr. Beckett started to stand up again and was held back by Rodney and John; Dr. Weir seized on this new piece of the puzzle.

"The maintenance interface, you mean?"

Dr. Beckett nodded quickly. "IN MY HEAD!" he shouted again. He pointed at his temple, as though they might not understand what he meant.

"It's talking to you?" She wanted to be perfectly clear on what was going on, which was proving difficult. Dr. Beckett wasn't calming down -- and she wasn't sure she could blame him. 

"It's talking," Carson repeated, and he seemed to finally be focusing on her, and the conversation.

The conversation *she* was having with him, at any rate. A thought occurred, and she asked, "Is it talking to you right now?"

He swallowed, then shook his head. "Not right this second. But--" He stopped and his eyes went even wider. He opened his mouth and she braced herself for another scream, but all he did was whimper.

She put her hand on his arm, trying to get his attention back on her. "What is it?"

His gaze flickered about, then snapped onto her. He looked like he was about to cry. "It just apologised."

"For--?" she asked, leadingly. He wasn't any less upset, but he was finally talking to them, now. She ignored Rodney muttering about how fantastic this was.

Dr. Beckett heard him, however, and he fixed the other man with a fierce glare. "It is *NOT* fascinating! It's in my bloody head and it's TALKING to me! And I know how to make sure the ambient temperature in your room stays not a bit over negative 5 degrees!"

Rodney shrugged. "I usually sleep in John's room anyhow."

"HIS ROOM, TOO!" Carson was on his feet again, and Weir had to push him back down. Sheppard was sputtering about how none of this was *his* fault.

"Carson, look at me," she tried to get things back on track. Not that they'd ever been on track, but she had to try. "Are you saying that the maintenance interface is sentient?"

Again it took a moment before Carson seemed to hear her, and think about his answer. Perhaps he was talking to it, she realised. That gave her a chill. How did they know what intentions this entity had? Had Carson been compromised by an alien life form?

Finally he shook his head, and his expression was beginning to lose some of its fear, and be replaced by wonder. "It isn't alive. I've... I've got the system specifications right here. It isn't alive, not even for a computer." He paused, obviously reading something over. "It's just.....well-programmed to respond to user requests."

He turned a look on her, one that made her think of a puppy begging to be taken home from the pound.

"Can you confirm that? I mean... it isn't lying to you?" She hated to ask, but the question had to be answered.

But Dr. Beckett shook his head. "I don't *think* so, but obviously I can't be sure. But... it isn't talking to me. It was just...responding." He looked confused. "Like an ATM that's programmed to wish you a good day. Only a bit more sophisticated." He was definitely beginning to sound calmer, and that, if nothing else, was progress.

Weir nodded. She wasn't convinced she believed this -- but one step at a time. They couldn't get any answers with Carson bouncing off the ceiling.

"This is wonderful!" Rodney said, and she could tell he'd been about to burst for the last several minutes. "Carson, can we--"

"No."

"But I haven't even--"

"No." Dr. Beckett looked determined, and Weir didn't blame him. 

Rodney looked hurt, and said, "I was only going to ask if we could--"

"The answer is 'no.' Whatever it is, it involves my brain, and you aren't doing it."

"--cut open your skull and take a look," Rodney finished, dead-pan. Carson gaped at him, and John reached over and thumped him on the arm.

"That's not nice."

"I'm *kidding*! Jeez, people. I was going to ask if there was anyway we could communicate with it. Hook up a laptop to the interface or something."

Carson was shaking his head. "I don't want anything in my brain." He looked at her once more, and she wished that she had an answer. Unfortunately, he was the very one who knew most about the device that was doing this to him.

"There's no way to remove it?"

"Believe me, I've looked. I've researched retirement, being fired, being transferred... The only way to get rid of it is if there's no more me, or no more city."

His eyes had gone wide with fear, again, but he wasn't panicking. Weir patted him on the shoulder and felt, not for the first time, utterly out of her depth.

"We'll keep looking into it," she promised. Carson nodded, though she could tell he didn't have much faith in finding an answer.

No one said anything for a moment, and Weir knew they were waiting for someone to suddenly get a brilliant idea. No one offered anything, though, and finally Dr. Beckett said, in a shaky voice, "So where's this gizmo you wanted me to take a look at?"

"Ray gun," Rodney said instantly, though Weir could tell his heart wasn't quite in it. But he moved towards the table they'd laid it out on, and Carson got to his feet and walked over. He stared at it for a moment, then looked at her.

Dr. Beckett cleared his throat, then said, "It's a ray gun."

"Dammit," John said, and she didn't blame him. 

"You owe me a forfeit," Rodney said to John. Smugly.

*************

Carson lay on an examining table, staring at the ceiling. He was also staring at a map of the city, watching areas being highlighted one after another. The interface was giving him a briefing about the sections of the city and their functions -- at least what they'd been used for once upon a time, ten million years ago.

He'd been talking to it for hours, now, while the medical team had observed him. They'd detected no sign of brain waves other than his, nor any hint of personality overlay. He and the interface had talked about a variety of topics, ranging from engine repair to gene therapy to the proper feeding and care of pet fish. 

As they'd talked, Carson had gradually noticed a certain stilted quality to the responses he was getting. The interface had no personality, he'd realised. Its comments had the feel of stock programming, where a basic algorithm determined the proper response to what he said. There was no feeling of *person* behind the conversation.

When Dr. Hathaway finally gave her diagnosis that there was no one in his brain except him, he'd already come to the same conclusion. He'd relaxed, and gone back to asking questions about the uses the Ancients had put the city to. Some of them were utterly alien -- why devote an entire room to the growing of a single tree, which was neither rare, biologically useful, nor spiritually significant? Others made more sense, and he'd flagged those to get back into working order so they could be used again. The gymnasium in particular would be well-received.

"I suppose we can let you go," Dr. Hathaway said, interrupting him. Carson looked at her, and sat up.

"Is there anyway to be sure Carson isn't in any danger?" Dr. Weir asked. He appreciated her concern, but he was -- finally -- convinced that there was no immediate need to panic. He reserved the right to change his mind, but for now he thought it might actually be all right.

Dr. Hathaway shook her head. "No more so than the rest of us, just by being here."

"Great," Carson muttered.

Dr. Weir smiled at him, and gave him a half-shrug. "Sorry," she said.

"Oh, I don't mind being dragged to another galaxy and put into constant mortal danger. My life back home was getting stagnant and boring." He got off the table, making sure no one was about to say 'just one more test'. He could empathize with certain subjects of his own experiments, now. There was nothing quite like having someone want to stick things into your body to make you wish you'd never heard the word 'science.'

"See? You just have to put it into perspective." Weir grinned, and then she grew serious again. "I do want someone to keep an eye on you, and I want these tests repeated regularly, until we are sure nothing's going to happen."

Dr. Hathaway nodded, and Carson sighed. "All right," he agreed, if only because he knew it was the proper, and sane, thing to do. "I can get back to work, though, right? I'm not on medical leave?"

"As long as you feel up to it," Weir said. "But don't overdo it for a few days, OK? Take it easy for awhile."

He nodded. Not that any of the work he had to do was very taxing; it would be easy to focus on it to the exclusion of everything else. Dr. Weir accepted his agreement and walked off with Dr. Hathaway, telling her to keep her informed in case anything should change.

Carson grabbed his jacket from the next bed, and shrugged into it. There were things to do, and he wanted to grab some lunch before he dove into it. The saline tanks were still first on the list, but the subsonic frequency modulators were rapidly moving up the list. It might have something to do with the experiments being done in the audio lab. He'd keep an eye on it and have a talk with them about what they were doing. In the meanwhile, it would be good to get back to work.

He walked out of the infirmary, not looking back. 

end chapter two

*************************************

CHAPTER THREE

 

A month later, Carson had found a what seemed to be a workable balance. Mornings he spent in the medical labs or infirmary, doing his research. After lunch he would head down to the maintenance workshop and tackle the list in his head. The number of red-lit urgencies had got down to almost zero and stayed that way for the last week, which Carson vastly appreciated. When he'd become a doctor, he'd grown used to being called at any hour of the day or night to deal with medical emergencies. Being called to deal with leaking pipes was a new and still-bewildering experience.

Even if Rodney told him that he was doing an amazing job. Carson wasn't entirely sure he liked the amount of disbelief he could hear in his friend's voice when he said it, but he knew Rodney meant it sincerely, in his own way. Besides, he could tell he was doing a good enough job, since everything he tried to fix ended up more or less working better than it had before he touched it.

It was the maintenance interface that did it all, he'd try to tell them. He couldn't tell if anyone believed him, or even really cared who was responsible as long as they got new, working toys to play with.

At least Rodney never failed to show up to inspect his handiwork whenever he found out Carson was working on something. He'd stare with eyes gone wide, shaking his head over the fact that Carson was making repairs to some Ancient Rube Goldberg device that only made sense if you had the schematics burning in a not-so-comforting blue in one's mind. He'd ask a question or two, then start rambling about the thing's uses and origins and whatever else popped into his head.

Even when it was a bit disconcerting, Carson had to admit he enjoyed that part of his new job. Since Rodney had started dating John, he hadn't seen nearly as much of his friend as he'd grown used to. True, it made other things more difficult -- jealousy and regret were high on his list. But it was nice to have Rodney's attention, even for things that made Carson feel lost and out of his depth.

The mass of 'repair groupies', as Sheppard had dubbed them, had more or less stopped trying to follow him around during the afternoons. They still asked for reports and asked no end of questions whenever they could -- usually in the mess hall during meals. As soon as he'd sat down to eat, someone or three would show up and go at him. He tried to answer their questions as best he could, but he wished there was a way for anyone but him to talk to Murdoc.

Murdoc was the name he'd given the maintenance interface, knowing full well calling it by a name would encourage him to treat the thing as though it had a personality. But he felt foolish thinking of it as "maintenance interface" all the time, and "MI" just sounded worse. Murdoc responded to its name easily enough, and Carson thought that having it to talk to was no more odd than having a pet cat that one pretended cared at all about one's day and not the box of food one was holding.

All in all, Carson thought he was getting used to it. He had twice the amount of work to do, of course, and never had any privacy at all. But given that things could have been a whole lot worse, he supposed things were not all that bad.

Then he found the ZPMs on the maintenance list.

 

****************

 

Dr. Weir was sitting in her office with Rodney, John, and Peter, discussing the new and not-so improved duty schedules. They were all trying to juggle personnel with an even more limited availability. This time, at least, it wasn't due to deaths. Two of the scientists had requested permission to move to the Athosian village, permanently. One was due to Nancy wanting to devote more time studying their culture and one was due to Geoff wanting to court and hopefully marry a certain Athosian woman. Weir had given her permission, and now they were trying to shuffle people around again.

She hadn't quite figured out why John was sitting in on the meeting, as neither of the sections affected were military. But here he was, and he wasn't being that annoying, so Weir had let him stay. She suspected there was some footsie going on under the table but she wasn't about to look.

They had all looked over when Carson came into the room, carrying two ZPMs. Rodney was on his feet instantly, and Weir had caught an unfortunate glimpse of his stockinged foot. 

"What's wrong?" Rodney asked, taking one of the ZPMs from Carson. "What are you--" He stopped, as though the obvious answer had just occurred to him.

They all turned to Carson, who shrugged. "It came up on the list. Actually, I jumped ahead about twelve items but I didn't really think anyone would mind if I didn't fix the heaters in section Baggan, as no one's living there at the moment."

Weir and the others stared at him for a moment, then all turned again to stare at the working ZPM in Rodney's hands. Peter slowly reached down and took the other ZPM from Carson's hands. 

Rodney looked up. "We'll go install these now, if that's all right with everyone?"

Weir nodded, looking at Carson as Rodney, Peter, and John practically ran out of the room. Carson half-turned to say something after them, but stopped as the door closed behind John. He turned to face her again, and Weir shook her head. 

"What... how--?"

"I've been working on them all week. I didn't want to... say anything because I didn't think it would actually work. But it did." He looked uncertain, shuffling a bit, before saying, "I actually came here to tell you that those two are extras."

Weir sat back in her chair and tried to think about that.

She tried again.

She tried a third time, then had to look at Carson. She needed to *hear* it, in order to let her mind think those words.

Carson nodded. "The first one I just finished installing. We have power for the city, and those two, I figured... we can power up the stargate and dial Earth. Take the other one through and use it to dial back."

She blinked. Those were the exact words she hadn't wanted to risk thinking. Even now, they rolled in her brain like something she couldn't quite trust. But she knew Carson, and knew he wouldn't have come in here with them unless it was real. She glanced towards the door. "Should we tell Rodney...?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. He'll figure it out soon enough, then they'll be back up here." Carson took a seat, across from the table, looking rather calm and collected -- except around the eyes, and the way he couldn't hold his hands still. 

Weir nodded, because acting like everything was fine was an old diplomacy trick she'd absorbed decades ago. She folded her hands across her desk, and regarded Carson. He looked like he was about to leap out of the chair again. 

"So," she began, and he flinched slightly before turning wide eyes on her. She had to do something other than scream.

"Aye?"

"I hear that Marjorie Stevens wants to set up some nursing classes."

***********

They talked about it. Everyone on Atlantis, for days. Whenever Carson walked down the hallway, anyone he passed would give him a thumbs-up, or a hearty clap on the shoulder. All the conversations were about Earth -- what they wanted to do, where they wanted to go. Supplies they wanted to bring back because they'd been stupid enough not to pack any, or enough, the first time.

Beer and lube were the two items mentioned most often. Carson tried to just smile and nod, and get out of the way. 

Finally, decisions had been made and Weir had made the announcement. They had enough power to send a message back to Earth in addition to powering the gate twice, for travel. They'd warn the SGC they were coming, then they'd dial Earth and go home. Four weeks' leave for everyone, then back again to Atlantis with new supplies and -- most importantly and hence the warning message -- additional personnel.

Departure was now only a week away, and everyone was running about like it was tomorrow. Folks were winding down experiments, or setting them up to go unattended for a month. There was packing, and unpacking, and plans made and changed and unmade and made again. Everyone was excited, thrilled beyond belief.

Except Carson. He watched them all, listened to them talk about their plans for leave. He thought about Scotland and Earth and his mum's home cooking. And he smiled and nodded and said things like 'that sounds like a good idea' whenever anyone told him what they wanted to do.

It hadn't taken long for him to figure out no one remembered. He couldn't decide how to tell Dr. Weir, or anybody; sometimes he even thought about not telling them at all. Stand back and toss through a note, so they'd not think he'd been trapped in the wormhole or dropped on the ramp of heart attack. He felt that was cowardly -- but he knew if he tried to remind Dr. Weir beforehand, that she would ask for volunteers to stay. She'd even volunteer, herself, and Carson knew she had too much to do back on Earth.

Everyone was so excited about going home. Weir herself had to go if only because she had to vet all the new personnel and get them briefed. Even Teyla was going, to be shown Earth and to help with selecting personnel. John had been the one to convince her of that, pointing out with surprising sincerity that she was good with people, and had good instincts when it came to judging them.

Carson didn't want to be the one to make anyone stay in Atlantis just to keep him company. It wasn't as though there wasn't a whole town of Athosians nearby, anyhow. But the more he saw everyone getting ready, the more he felt like he needed to say something. He had no idea what. Even just pulling someone aside and asking -- "Do you know I can't go with you?"

The maintenance interface didn't get turned off. He'd explained, when it had first connected with him. He couldn't turn it off, couldn't remove it. He couldn't even leave the planet without his head blowing up -- he'd assigned Dr. Hathaway as the main emergency physician for just that reason. But no one had remembered that, it was clear to him. They asked him what his plans were, and he deflected their inquires by asking the same, and listening to vacation plans and stories of families and movies and sleeping on real, Earth mattresses.

He watched them prepare, and smiled back when they thanked him, and sat in his quarters at night in the dark, and stared at Gaelic script and diagrams that only he could see.

He thought about Earth, and home, and let the scroll of technical blueprints distract him into thinking about what he might do, tomorrow.

*********

The day after, he was in his quarters again. Same wall, new diagrams and schematics. He'd spent the entire day in the upper reaches of the mormot tower, tinkering on the air quality detection sensors. Nothing from the top of his list, but he'd found that as long as nothing was glowing urgent-red, he was pretty much free to pick anything he liked, without Murdoc blinking an item from the list for him to select.

He'd managed to avoid everybody by packing his lunch along and getting back very late for dinner. He'd grabbed something -- still not sure what it was -- and headed back to his room to eat.

And sulk, if he were being thoroughly honest with himself. It was hard not to, surrounded by people all caught up in the good news. He tried to focus on the fact he'd be able to get quite a lot of work done. With no one around there would be no medical emergencies to keep him in the infirmary. He'd be able to spend all his time with his mechanic's tool-belt -- and do it *without* his 'repair-groupies.'

Murdoc seemed to approve of those plans, offering a variety of work schedules for him to consider. There were several things to be done in the lower sections of the city, where he hadn't ventured to yet. Dr. Weir hadn't wanted him going alone into areas of the city they hadn't secured yet, and she hadn't the time or personnel to devote to doing so just so he could work on something they weren't actively in need of.

But he could stick to areas that weren't remotely dangerous, like the public arts halls, and the museums. Or, if he wanted to avoid getting a lecture at all from Dr. Weir when she returned, he could easily fill his time staying right in the center of the city. Without anyone around he could even get to some of the items in the control center -- trivial enough though they were, he hadn't wanted to tackle them with everyone standing around staring at him.

It would be better to do it when everyone was gone, and he was here alone. Carson rolled over on his bed, the staring at a new wall, but the same display. He wished he could turn it off, but all he could do was dim it a little. Only when there was nothing to be repaired did the duty scroll vanish completely, and from the records he'd seen that happened only once in a great while. There was always something breaking down, or needing a tune-up.

He told himself it was good that at least he would never get bored. He rubbed at his eyes and tried not to think about sitting in his parent's living room as a boy, spread out on the floor while the snows kept them all trapped safely inside. Whinging about being bored until his father suggested a list of chores he could do. His mum would take turns whose side she would be on, sometimes offering to take him into the kitchen to let him help with some baking, or sending him sternly off to tidy his room.

Carson took a slow, shuddering breath and tried to think about maintenance work. Or Wraith -- he could work on his research and not have to worry about sharing the equipment. He could do *anything*, even run down the halls in his socks and not a stitch else.

There was a knock on his door, and Carson thought it open without rolling over to see who it was.

"Oh, good, you're awake." 

He listened as Rodney walked over and found something to sit on, near the bed. He felt the slight dip as Rodney propped a foot on the mattress, but he still didn't look over. He waited until he could surreptitiously wipe his face dry before facing his friend.

"We wondered if there were any other spare ZPMs around and if you'd have time to get 'em fixed up and don't think I've forgotten that you haven't shared that interesting little tidbit with me on how you did that or why you didn't mention that you could do it so I could watch. The SGC might need a spare, but really we were thinking that if we had two more -- really if we could get them repaired regularly and believe me when I say I will be watching the next time -- we could schedule regular trips back to Earth and rotate personnel. Well, that part was Elizabeth's idea but I think it's a good one especially if I can get Kavanagh replaced -- maybe with a gerbil. Or a ferret would be all right, because at least those can be trained to fetch, and they chew on things and smell bad, but I think that'd be a vast improvement, don't you?"

Carson didn't answer, recognising the high-velocity spiel and knowing there was no need to interrupt, or even look like he was listening.

"When she had all the head of staff put in their requests for new personnel I specifically asked that he be replaced, though I didn't actually ask for a gerbil -- but it probably isn't too late. I wonder if Sam Carter would want to come, if she knew she'd be able to get back to Earth? That would be fantastic, can you imagine the amount of research we could get accomplished? And I know Dr. Jackson will be here as long as Jack knows he'll get him back. God, I hope O'Neill doesn't decide to come with him, no offense to the Colonel but I think I'd rather have Kavanagh...OK, no, I really wouldn't." 

Carson didn't say anything as Rodney kept talking. Instead his thoughts seized on the thing Rodney had said, buried in the middle of all that babble. Return trips -- trips, plural. The people on Atlantis could go back, regularly. Some would eventually stay behind, be replaced with new faces. It would be as routine as any other military base in some far reach -- no further than Antarctica, and Carson had been able to fly home twice during his assignment there.

He wanted to shout at Rodney to shut up and go away, but his held his tongue. Rodney was talking about some theory of his that he wanted Dr. Carter to work on with him -- something about the stargates.

He mentally brushed aside the flash of diagram that appeared, and rolled over and sat up to glare at Rodney. "Was there something you wanted?" he demanded, remembering only as he spoke what Rodney's original question was. "Yes, there is another spare ZPM and yes, I imagine I can fix it. No, you can't watch unless you stop talking at me!"

Rodney was staring at him, his mouth hanging open. Carson realised that he'd raised his voice and tried to calm himself down.

"I'm sorry. It's been a really long day and I'm tired. But you can tell Dr. Weir that having ZPMs for regular gate-travel back to Earth is...well, I'll have to look into it and see how often they can actually be recharged. There were spares listed on the inventory but they're not in the storage facility so I don't know what's happened to them."

"O...OK," Rodney said, quietly. He nodded once, and tensed as though about to stand up to leave. 

Sighing, Carson said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's all right. I do tend to go on. And on, and on. I would say it's a fault but really I find it a strength -- the ability to talk until I drop from exhaustion. I-- right, you're tired. I... should go, then."

He ought to tell Rodney he could stay -- apologise for his rudeness by letting Rodney go on with whatever he was talking about. But Carson didn't think he could stand any more company -- especially not that of someone who was, when he left Carson's room, going down the hallway into another man's quarters.

When Carson said nothing, Rodney got awkwardly to his feet. He took a step towards the door, then stopped and asked, "So... you're going to Glasgow, then? See your mum?" 

Carson looked up at him, confused by the change of topic. "I'm sorry?"

Rodney shrugged. "I don't remember you telling me your plans, but usually you go back to Glasgow when you get leave. Maybe I can swing by and you can show me that Lion's Den pub you always talked about."

"Lion's Head," Carson corrected him, automatically. 

"Right. So...That's where you'll be? John and I are going to spend a week in California, but I'm going to take some time to go visit my sister. By myself, I mean -- I don't know how she'd feel with me showing up on her doorstep with a boyfriend in tow. No need to make an awkward family reunion any worse." Rodney smiled, hesitantly.

Carson nodded. "That sounds like a good idea." The words felt tired, and he just wanted Rodney to go.

"Depending on how that goes I may or may not be spending a lot of time with her. But I've left the whole third week open for spontaneous plans -- so, maybe we can hook up then?" Rodney asked. 

"No," Carson said, shaking his head.

Rodney stared at him again, jaw once more hanging open. From the look in his eyes it was clear Carson had hurt his feelings. "No?" 

Closing his eyes -- then opening them again when that really didn't help him not see anything -- Carson said again, "No." His voice broke, and he wiped at his eyes. His whole body was starting to shake and he tried to pull himself together. 

"You're not going to Glasgow?" Rodney's voice had an edge of hope to it.

"I'm not going to Glasgow. I'm not going anywhere," he added, and it was something of a relief to actually say those words out loud.

"You're not going?" Rodney looked at him, and the hurt was gone from his voice, replaced by confusion. 

Carson held up his arm. Rodney looked at it -- at the maintenance band glowing on Carson's wrist.

"Because...you have work to do?"

"Because if I leave the planet my head explodes, remember? Safety feature to prevent the information from falling into the wrong hands?" He was almost shouting again, only avoiding it because he was crying. "I can't go home, I can't go to Glasgow or the pubs or my mum's or anywhere on Earth!"

He spun away, not wanting Rodney to see his face. Too late for that, he knew, but he had to do something to regain whatever control he could.

He felt the bed dip, and Rodney's hand was on his shoulder.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is, listening to everyone's plans for what they're going to do while they're on Earth? Talking about holidays and seeing their families and eating bread that hasn't been freeze-dried and carried halfway across the universe? And now you come and tell me you'll all be doing it often -- as often as I can arrange it, repairing the ZPMs for you so you can go home--"

He couldn't speak anymore, had barely got the last few words out. Rodney's arm slid around him, pulling him slightly backwards into an embrace.

"God, Carson. I... forgot. We all forgot, I guess."

He nodded. "I know. People keep asking me what I'm going to do." Which had only made it so much worse, since he couldn't help but think about what he wished he could do, more than anything.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want... Everybody was so excited about going home. And there's nothing anyone *can* do. It's not like you can wrap my head in a baggie to keep my brains from going everywhere when I leave."

"But there's go to be something we can do." Rodney fell silent, going over all the possibilities.

Ones that Carson had already gone over, to no avail. "There's nothing to do," he repeated, taking a deep breath and finally feeling like he was no longer going to fall apart.

"But-- you can't stay here alone."

"I won't be alone -- not completely. The Athosians aren't that far away, and I can get there easily enough." He turned, not meaning to dislodge Rodney's arm, and feeling a chill when Rodney moved away. "But I don't want anyone to think they have to stay here, with me. I'm a grown man -- I can spend a few weeks by myself without burning down the house."

The corner of Rodney's mouth quirked. "Unlike when you were five."

Carson glared, though he didn't really feel annoyed. He'd said it deliberately to distract Rodney from what couldn't be fixed. "It was their own fault for leaving me alone--"

"For, what was it? Ten minutes?"

"I was five years old," he repeated. "What did they think would happen?"

"That you'd behave, and not try to turn on the stove?"

"Aye, well, they were wrong, weren't they?"

Rodney grinned. "They were. Which doesn't say much for us leaving you in Atlantis by yourself. God knows the trouble you can get into." He'd said it lightly, but from the set of his face Carson knew his friend was thinking about all the real emergencies that could happen.

"We've already decided to submerge the city again, to protect it from anything that might happen by," Carson reminded him. "I'll be fine."

"And when you fall down the stairs and break your neck?"

He rolled his eyes, glad he'd thought this through as well. He could, he knew, spend the month with the Athosians. But he didn't want to -- which surprised him a little. He was rather looking forward -- a bit -- to spending some time fiddling with the Ancients' machinery. "I'll stay in daily radio contact with the Athosians. They can come rescue me if I fall down the stairs."

"And how will they get here?"

Carson opened his mouth, then closed it. All right, so he hadn't completely figured that one out. He'd been assuming he wouldn't actually get into any trouble. 

He didn't like the thoughtful look on Rodney's face, though. He glared, this time meaning it. "I'm not going to make anyone stay with me. What if I can't get any more ZPMs working? This will be the only chance you get to go home. I'm not going to make someone miss that."

Rodney turned his head, meeting his gaze. Carson felt himself caught in it, realising that he was only inches away. When Rodney stared at you, really looked *at* you rather than merely looking around while he talked, there was an intensity that caught you up and didn't let you go.

Swallowing nervously, Carson leant back and tried to not think things he had no right to be thinking. "It will be all right, Rodney," he said again, and he tried to sound as calm and accepting of that as he could.

"Hmm," was all Rodney said, and Carson took that as a bad sign. He was thinking, and there would be no way Carson would be able to dissuade him from whatever decision he made.

"No one needs to stay," he tried anyway. 

"Oh, I know," Rodney said, surprising him a little. "But we'll see what Elizabeth says--"

"No!" Carson grabbed his arm. "You know she'll ask someone to stay behind. Rodney, if we don't find any more ZPMs, then this will be the only chance people get. I'll not be responsible for someone missing out on going home."

Rodney closed his hand over Carson's, patting it once rather than moving it away as Carson expected. "OK."

He blinked. "OK?"

"OK," Rodney repeated, nodding his head and looking for all the world like he meant it.

Carson didn't trust him, but -- Rodney didn't have a tendency to outright lie. Exaggerate, maybe, but not actually lie.

"I should go," Rodney said, standing up but not really moving away. "You'll be all right?"

"Of course," he said, knowing that they both meant for now, and for the month ahead. Rodney seemed oddly subdued as he nodded, accepting Carson's reassurance.

But he turned and headed for the door, and Carson watched him go without calling him back.

Asking him if he wouldn't like to stay behind and learn how to repair all those gizmos and doodads that he could never remember the proper names for, no matter how often Carson pronounced them for him. But he kept silent, and watched Rodney leave.

Then he laid back down on his bed, looked up at the ceiling, and watched the list of repair jobs scroll slowly by.

***********

CHAPTER FOUR

No one said a word to him about it. Days went by, people continued rushing about like they were leaving for summer camp. No one asked him if he'd be all right, no one stopped asking what he planned to do back home.

Obviously Rodney had said nothing. It hurt, no matter how grateful Carson was that he wouldn't have to argue anyone out of staying behind. He was a grown man, he didn't need hand-holding. But he'd thought that Rodney would have done *something* other than drop the matter completely.

Carson was in the medical lab, trying to focus on closing down some of Dr. Weinstein's experiments, the morning of the departure. If he'd thought it chaos before, that was nothing compared to now. People were remembering things they'd forgot, or forgot that they'd already remembered. Dr. Weir had made a comment about delaying their departure for an extra week to give everyone time to get ready but she'd been shouted down.

Carson was helping out where he could, deflecting questions about his own work being safely stowed away. He felt subdued as he sat at the counter, putting slides away. Behind him, Josephine and Kada were talking about going surfing. He heard the door slide open, then Kada said, "Hello, Major."

Curious, Carson glanced over his shoulder. He grew more curious when Sheppard came directly towards him. John glanced towards the two women before sitting down on a stool and scooting it close. Carson frowned, leaning back a bit.

"Rodney sent me down to get your list," John said, keeping his voice low.

"List?" 

"You know. Shopping list. You do want stuff brought back, don't you?" John seemed only slightly concerned about the fact Carson was staying behind. 

"I... hadn't thought about it," Carson said, keeping his own voice low. He looked back down at the slides, and continued setting them in the case. The things he wanted weren't the sort anyone could carry back.

"Everyone gets to fill a personal bag, like we did the first time. Bring some more stuff from home -- Rodney wanted me to find out what you want."

It wasn't what he'd expected of Rodney, but it was nice to realise he hadn't completely left it alone. A few more things from Earth would be... not the same as going home. But nice.

"I'll think about it and let him know," he said quietly. 

There was a pause, before John nodded. "OK, then." He leaned back but didn't make any move to leave. Carson waited a moment, wondering if he were supposed to clue him in that he had nothing else to say.

But John looked like he was trying to decide something, and Carson had a feeling he knew what it was. Some polite gesture over his being stuck here while everyone else left. 

"It's all right," he said, preemptively. 

John nodded. "I'm sorry there isn't a way--" He stopped and glanced over at the two women. They were deep in their own conversation and organising of Josephine's notebooks. Carson doubted they would overhear anything.

"It's fine," he said again, trying to sound as though it really were. "Potato scones," he said, thinking of something easy, and portable. "If Ian McEwan's got a new book out, a copy of that."

"Who? Nevermind, I'll just write it down." Sheppard pulled a piece of paper off the shelf above the counter, and stole a pen from Carson's lab coat pocket. "Anything else?"

"I'll think about it," Carson said again. It wasn't as though he really cared -- but it occurred to him that he might start thinking seriously about what he did want from home.

When he'd packed the first time, it had been with the knowledge that they might not return. But there had been the hope otherwise, and, he had to admit, he'd always believed they would return one day. He'd packed as though going on a trip from which he would one day return.

He wasn't, now. 

"Rodney said to get as long a list as possible, you know, in case we can't find one thing we can get something else."

There was a decidedly casual tone in Sheppard's voice that caught Carson's attention. He looked at him, but John's expression seemed perfectly guileless.

"What are you two -- he's got you giving up room in your bag as well, has he?" 

Sheppard started to deny it, but then he simply shrugged. "I can shove something in there. Not a lot I need that takes up much room."

"You don't have to--"

"I want to," Sheppard said, quickly. And he seemed to mean it. Carson wondered how Rodney had talked him into *that*. 

No. He didn't want to think about Rodney offering John favours. Well, the easiest thing to do was simply not give Rodney a list. No more than what he'd already said. Then he wouldn't have to think about it when John brought anything for him, back in his own luggage.

"I'll let him know before..... I'll let him know." He had no intention of it, but at least he could let John think he'd done his duty. He turned his attention back to the slides, re-filing the last three he'd misfiled.

He was surprised when Sheppard put a hand over his own. "Carson. Give us more of a list, OK? It isn't much, but it's something we can do to make up for the fact--" He glanced over, again, but Josephine and Kada weren't listening. "Let us do this, OK?"

"I...why do you want to?" The question slipped out before he remembered that he didn't want to know. He shook his head. "I know why Rodney's made you agree to help. It isn't necessary." He didn't want to add that he didn't expect John to care. They'd never been the sort of friends he and Rodney were. 

He really didn't want to think about Rodney talking John into agreeing to help.

"Because I don't like the idea that you can't go with us. It isn't fair, and this is the only way I can help. So I'm going to. If I have to stuff my bag with weird food and trashy novels, I will."

"Ian McEwan is *not* trashy!" Carson retorted. He stopped when he realised John was smirking at him. 

"I tried to read... what was it? Amsterdam. Couldn't get into it."

"It wasn't one of his best," Carson said, still staring at Sheppard like... like he'd sat down and was having a conversation.

When was the last time that had ever happened? The longest conversation they'd ever had consisted of the major trying to teach Carson how to fly a jumper. Carson hadn't thought it a coincidence that for his second lesson, Markham had become his instructor.

"Well, that type of fiction really isn't my speed. I like Dean Koontz and Straub better. Of the contemporary stuff."

"You read horror." 

Sheppard shrugged. "Oddly, not so much anymore."

Carson smiled, briefly. "That's not hard to imagine."

"Yeah, somehow I don't think I'll be wanting to get any Stephen King books. I don't care how long it's been since the Dark Tower first came out."

Carson had never in his life picked up a Stephen King book, so he only nodded as though Sheppard's comment made any sense. It left him at a loss as to what to say, though.

"Maybe I'll try fantasy," John said, thoughtfully. "Elves and dwarves and dragons might be safe."

Carson frowned. "You know we'll find them, now. On some planet we gate to -- the ancients will have read Tolkien and decided to make their own version."

John laughed. "As long as we don't have to fight the bad guy, what's his name."

"Actually, the Black Riders aren't that much different from the Wraith." He started thinking about the similarities, and decided he really didn't want to know.

"There you go. Now we just need elves and hobbits."

"We *don't*," Carson reminded him. "Because then we'd also have a Balrog, and Sauron, and magical rings that corrupt people."

"Like the Stargate?" John said with an innocent tone.

"The stargates are not evil," he said reflexively. But thinking about the stargate reminded him of the fact he'd never get to step through one again. Which wasn't all that bad a thing, as far as having his molecules scrambled. But it meant he couldn't go home. 

He turned back to the slides he was supposed to be putting away so Dr. Weinstein wouldn't have to worry about them. Not like he couldn't finish it up tomorrow, though no one but Rodney and John knew that.

He waited for Sheppard to say something more, but he didn't. They sat for a moment, then John stood up. "Be sure and get us that list," he said, and patted Carson on the shoulder before turning away and walking out.

Carson didn't answer. The slides weren't going to put themselves away. He tried not to think about...anything, really, as he sorted through the next batch.

The maintenance scroll flickered as an item moved up the list of priority. Carson didn't bother reading it. He'd get to it tomorrow.

***********

He ended up giving Rodney a list of ten items. He'd found Rodney in his lab, barking orders at people as though they didn't know what they were doing. He'd glanced at Carson when he'd walked in, and Carson had said nothing as he'd handed over a folded piece of paper with his list written on it.

He'd meant to only write down one or two things, but once he'd started thinking about it, he'd thought of several items to add. He'd erased a few and left the list at ten -- enough for Rodney to feel he was bringing something back, but not so much it would take up too much room. He'd restricted himself to small items as well, for the same reason.

When Carson had handed him the list, Rodney had started to say something. But Carson had left before he could. Now he was wandering hallways not used much by the others -- he didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want to risk having a conversation that would lead him to having to tell anyone else he wasn't going.

He imagined Weir would be angry when she found out. But with the moment finally here -- it was too hard. He couldn't think about it, didn't want to talk about it. He definitely did not want to argue with anyone about why they shouldn't stay.

No matter how much he wished someone would.

He looked at the clock -- the time and planetary position were marked in the bottom right-hand corner of the maintenance 'screen' in his head. He hadn't figured out why he needed to know the relative position of the planet in the solar system, but assumed it would either become relevant, or it wouldn't. It didn't take up any more space than everything else in his field of vision, so he hadn't tried to get rid of it.

The Atlantis team was leaving in just a few more minutes. He wasn't very far from the gateroom -- close enough he could imagine that he could hear them talking. All of them gathered, excited, waiting for Grodin to open the gate to Earth. Weir would be giving them a speech, perhaps. Letting them know that if anyone decided to stay on Earth and not come back, that was perfectly fine. Carson didn't know if anyone was seriously considering it, but he knew that after being home for four weeks, some of them might opt out of coming back.

According to the clock, they should be just about ready to dial the gate. Carson found himself turning down another hallway, heading for the gateroom. Possibly a mistake, but -- well, he didn't have to go all the way. He could stop, just out of sight. Out of hearing -- he could turn around right now and not go down, at all.

But he didn't stop. He hurried, in fact, as he realised that now he was going to see them off, he didn't want to miss them. Not completely -- he still didn't want anyone to catch sight of him. Rodney and John would explain it to Weir, on the other side. When it was too late to open the gate again and return, without using up all the power.

He could hear the gate, now. It was on -- no doubt folks were on their way through. He walked faster, hurrying more until he reached the doorway where he stopped. Looking through, down into the gateroom, he could see the blue swirl of the stargate's open portal. Two figures were just disappearing through.

Another second, and the gate went off.

Carson felt as though he'd been hit in the belly with a hammer. He was alone. Everyone had gone -- home. 

He felt his knees shake, and suddenly they were no longer holding him up. He held onto the doorway, but slid down to the floor. He wasn't... couldn't ever.....

He dropped his head and wished -- anything. Something, other than this.

"Let's go find him."

Carson's head jerked up as he heard Rodney's voice.

Rodney -- talking to someone else. Carson staggered to his feet and moved forward, not quite letting go of the doorway. Looked down into the main area of the gateroom and saw Rodney standing in the middle of the gateroom with John.

****************

CHAPTER FIVE

Carson moved to the edge of the balcony, and found the railing with one hand to prevent himself from -- as he felt he must certainly do -- falling over the edge.

"I'm here," he said mildly, staring down as Rodney and John both looked up at him. Rodney's face broke into a huge smile; John looked half pleased, half guilty. 

"We'll come up," Rodney called out, and Carson shook his head.

"No, I'll be right down." Not that it mattered, he realised, even as he headed for the stairs. The stargate was off. They were all stuck here for the next month -- unless someone at SGC decided to dial back early.

He found himself hoping that would happen -- though he knew they wouldn't. Not right away, not anytime soon. At best they might cut their visit short by a few hours or days, but... why would they? They had power to dial back to Atlantis, once. Rodney and John were here, and no doubt Elizabeth had cleared it. Agreed to let them stay.

When he reached the main floor of the gateroom, Carson stopped, facing Rodney and John. They stood in a loose semi-circle, all staring at each other.

"Surprise," Rodney said, casually.

"What are you doing?" Carson demanded. "How can you....."

"Stay here with you? Keep you company?" John shrugged. "Seemed easy enough. See that big round thing?" He gestured over his shoulder at the gate, with his thumb. "We didn't walk through it and here we are."

Carson glared at him, then turned his glare on Rodney. He ought to tell them he was grateful. But he couldn't. "You had plans. You were going to visit your sister."

"Yeah, well... I haven't seen her in years. There's no rush. And besides, it's not like we can't have our vacation here," he began, giving John a glance. "We hadn't planned to do all that much--"

Whatever gratitude Carson had felt, shattered at that. "Lovely. So you two are going to keep me company, in-between locking yourselves in your room?"

"We're not going to lock ourselves in," John began. He stopped himself, and said in a sharper tone, "I expected at least a thank you, you know." 

"Well, excuse me for not being grateful," Carson said sharply, stepping away from them. It was true -- they could have as much fun as they liked, holed up here in Atlantis with no work to do, as they could back on Earth. "I suppose the only difference between staying here and staying in a hotel on Earth is the quality of the room service."

He turned to go, intending to get as far away from there as possible. A good thing he had a map of the city in his brain -- he could go where they'd not find him. They could indulge themselves as much as they liked and he wouldn't have to bother with either of them.

A hand grabbed his arm and hauled him back before he got more than two steps away. He was spun around, and Rodney was standing there, glaring at him.

"We did *not* decide to stay here so we could have sex." He paused. From the look on his face, Carson *knew* what he was going to say next. Of course they were, even if it wasn't the main reason for staying.

Carson yanked his arm free. "Stop it! Would you just... you're here, we're all stuck here now, but that doesn't mean I have to put up with--"

He swallowed the words. Dear god, this was neither the time, nor place, to say it. 

Rodney was looking at him, and his confused expression gave way to hurt. "Carson... I-- I had no idea. This... really bothers you. John and I?"

Carson scowled, trying to cover the fact that it did -- though he had no right to say so. 

"I... I'm sorry, Carson." He could see how Rodney was pulling away from him. Shutting himself off. Carson wanted to scream at him, but he didn't. Couldn't.

"You never said anything about...not liking guys being together," John said, hesitantly. "I had the impression it didn't bother you."

That caught Carson's attention. It took a moment for him to figure out what John meant. What Rodney thought *he* meant. Carson shook his head. "It doesn't. That never bothered me." He clamped his jaw shut as he realised he was walking himself right into admitting how he felt.

"Then...what...?" Rodney was back to looking confused. The hurt seemed to be gone, as well as the horrible, closed-off expression Carson hated having seen. But he didn't have any intention of trying to explain, and he hoped they could just drop it.

Fair chance of that, with them stuck here with only each other for company for a month. Surely he could avoid having any real conversations with them, for that time?

But they were both staring at him, and Carson tried to look away. Focused on the scrolling words in his head, as though they'd notice his attention was elsewhere and leave him to it.

"Carson, what-- oh." Rodney's voice had a frighteningly calm tone to it. The revelation that Carson could hear made him know he'd said too much. It was far too late to bolt, and hide somewhere far on the other side of the city.

"What 'oh'?" John asked. Carson tried to focus on reading about the possible reasons why the humidifiers could have failed in the elidae decks. Or possibly find a way to teleport himself far away.

"'Oh.' He..." There was a pause, and Carson caught a glimpse of Rodney's hand moving. He missed the gesture, but looked up again to find Rodney staring at him with compassion.

That was almost worse. "I don't--" he began, but he could hardly deny what no one had even said aloud. Maybe... maybe they were talking about something else. He could blame this all on misunderstanding and save something of their friendship. Rodney's trust.

"Then what's the problem?" Rodney asked, still in that calm tone that usually delivered lectures of physics and technology -- when no one was about to die as a result of not figuring things out soon enough. 

Carson tried taking a deep breath, and found it really didn't help. Instead he simply looked away again, down at the floor and noticed how the solid color made a nice background for the maintenance scroll. 

There was silence, then, and Carson had time to hope they wouldn't discuss it any further. They could all pretend this conversation never happened, and Rodney and John could sequester themselves in one part of the city, and Carson could stay alone in another.

"I thought you said he turned you down?" John asked.

"He did," Rodney said, and Carson looked up again.

"Excuse me?"

Rodney shrugged. "You turned me down, both times. Back in Antarctica. I figured... oh. Um, unless it's..." He glanced at John.

Carson followed the glance, still not a clue what Rodney was talking about. John smiled back, and the penny dropped. Rodney thought it was John, that he was interested in.

Which was entirely beside the point. "When did you...give me anything to turn down?" he asked Rodney. 

"About a month or two after I arrived. You remember -- we were talking at dinner and I asked you if you wanted to go back to my place."

Carson frowned, thinking back. Not as though they hadn't eaten dinner together most nights -- eaten breakfast, lunch, and game night popcorn and beer together, as well. He couldn't remember all their conversations. But he'd have noticed if Rodney had invited him back to his place for anything of the sort he'd thought Rodney too straight to agree to doing. 

He did recall Rodney asking him...something, which he'd turned down. "You were inviting me to go see a hockey game."

Rodney cleared his throat. "We *were* talking about hockey. At first. Then we segued. Into...not hockey."

Again, he tried to remember the conversation. Impossible to remember exact words. But he knew he hadn't been asked *that*. If he had, he would have said yes. But Rodney seemed to think he *had* asked. "You...were making a pass at me?"

Rodney nodded.

Carson felt like slugging him. "You couldn't just say 'hey, fancy a shag?'"

"I didn't know if you'd be offended! It's hard just asking a person who might think your proclivities are unnatural and should get you banned from the project you're devoting your life to."

"So, it's him you're interested in?" John said, startling Carson a bit. He'd almost forgotten that John was standing there.

"I'm not going to get between you," he said, quickly. He tried not to notice the look that appeared on John's -- and then Rodney's -- face. "I'm not...you don't have to worry about me. I just..... Having the two of you here to keep me company isn't exactly....." He sighed. "I do appreciate it. Honestly."

Maybe he should just leave it at that. It would be nice to have someone to spend time with. He could pretend he didn't know that sometimes Rodney and John would be off together, doing things he could only wish he could be part of. Truth was, he'd willingly have a shag with either of them -- if he weren't already in love.

That bit, he was definitely going to keep to himself. He didn't need to cause any more trouble than he already had.

"Just so we're clear," John said, "You would have said yes? If he'd spoken English and not in double entendres?"

"Excuse me," Rodney said, sounding offended. "But I was as perfectly clear as I thought it prudent to be. A US military base isn't the most encouraging place to begin a homosexual relationship."

"Lucky for me I don't feel the same," John said, smirking. 

"Technically this isn't a *US* military base," Rodney countered.

"Yes," Carson said, quietly. Half-hoping they wouldn't hear.

But Rodney's head whipped around, and he stared. "Yes?"

"Cool," was all John said.

Which didn't exactly make sense. "I'm sorry?" Carson asked. Well - it was nice to know John didn't feel threatened. 

"You'd have said yes? Really?" Rodney was still staring at him, and the hopeful, tentatively happy look on his face made Carson wonder if Rodney remembered he was already seeing someone. 

"Yes, really," he said, because it was the only question he knew the answer to.

Rodney stared at him for a moment more, then turned to John. "Cool," he repeated. 

"Well, I'm glad to have amused everyone," Carson began. He felt tired, stretched too thin to make sense of anything -- not a new feeling for him, as it described pretty much every waking moment since he'd stepped foot in Atlantis. Too little butter scraped thinly over bread, he thought to himself. The floor really was the perfect background for the text and diagrams in his eyes. Easy to read everything, and no impression that he had to focus on anything beyond the scrolling words, as well.

He started when he felt a hand touch his face, and, reluctantly, he lifted his head in response to the nudge. Rodney was standing there, looking for all the world like he was going to kiss him. Carson opened his mouth to ask him what he wanted -- when Rodney leant forward and did exactly that.

His lips were warm, dry, and softer than Carson would have expected them to be. Pressed against his own, he couldn't quite think of anything through the surprise. The fear hit only a second later, that John was standing right *there*. Surely he would be angry, or hurt, or...he wasn't saying anything, though, and Rodney kept kissing him.

Carson felt his body beginning to respond; he had to back away before Rodney felt it, too. Before he made this situation any worse than it was rapidly becoming. He tried to move back, and Rodney let him go only a half step. He still had a grip on Carson's arms, and he didn't seem about to let him leave. 

Guiltily, Carson looked at John, apologies on the tip of his tongue.

John was smiling at them. Carson looked at Rodney, who was looking at him like he was waiting for something. He looked back at John.

"Er... you do realise your boyfriend just kissed me?" 

"Now maybe I won't have to listen to him gripe about it." John grinned at Rodney.

"Excuse me, I don't *gripe* about it. I mention it, *occasionally*. Besides, you agreed with me."

"Well, yeah. But it's one thing to agree a guy's fuckable, and another to go on and on about it, day after day....." John paused, and gave Carson a wink.

Carson was starting to think he knew how Alice felt, falling down the rabbit hole. Maybe the connection to Murdoc had affected his brain? He was dreaming all this, and they'd return from Earth to find him collapsed on the deck above the gateroom.

"I do *not* go on day after day," Rodney insisted. He was still gripping Carson's arm -- like he knew Carson was ready to bolt.

"Excuse me, I think..." He didn't really know what to think. He was sorry he'd got their attention, however, when they stopped and both looked at him. 

It was obvious they were waiting for him to keep going, but he couldn't think of anything he trusted himself to say. Finally, John was the one to speak up. He shrugged, and said, "I don't mind sharing." His tone was light, but there was an undercurrent that said things had turned very serious, indeed.

"I don't mind sharing," Rodney echoed. He sounded just as casual, but the look in his eyes was intense. It was too difficult to look away, and Carson could barely think of saying no, and seeing the disappointment there.

"You have any idea what you're saying?" Carson asked, because this conversation was not one he'd ever dreamed of having. It made his unconscious hypothesis seem more likely.

He'd never dreamed of going to another galaxy, either, so perhaps he should stop trying to put expectations on anything.

"We're saying we can do this one of two ways. All of us, or you and me and him and me. And you and him, if you want. Although I really would like to *see* it if that happens." Rodney's voice didn't reveal the tension that Carson could feel; his body was tight and unmoving, just like Carson's own. 

But Carson was still trying to process what Rodney had said. John didn't help with that at all, when he said, "I'm up for that. Any of them."

"I think... I may need a drink." Carson couldn't answer. He didn't dare -- because when he woke up and they asked him what he'd been dreaming about while unconscious, he'd need to be able to say 'nothing too odd.'

"I think we can arrange that," John said. He moved towards the stairs, but Rodney didn't follow. Carson looked at him, and found that his expression hadn't changed.

Rodney opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. Carson waited a moment, then realised that Rodney was as much at a loss for words as he was. He wished he knew what to say. Perhaps he should just say yes, and worry about it later. Or go ahead and say no, now, and let them stop wondering.

He couldn't decide. He heard John walking back over, and he turned his head, still guilty over the fact he wanted to kiss Rodney again.

He was totally unprepared for John to reach his hand around the back of Carson's head, and pull him in for a kiss. Long, and hard, totally unlike the gentle passion in Rodney's kiss. But nothing he could dare pull himself away from, either. 

He gasped when John let him go.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely going to have to see it," Rodney said.

Carson just swallowed, hard.

One month. No matter what his answer was, he was fairly sure he might not survive.

***********

CHAPTER SIX

"Come on," John said, starting again to walk away. He waggled a finger at them to encourage them to follow.

"Where are we going?" Carson asked, not moving. 

"You said you wanted a drink, right? I have a bottle of fine Athosian booze in my room."

No. Oh, no. Carson shook his head. He *knew* he wasn't ready for that.

John stopped and rolled his eyes. "We are *not* going to get you drunk and seduce you."

"Oh, good," Carson breathed. That was good, right? Although having an excuse -- no. He wasn't going to go there. Well, he was, but -- No.

Maybe.

John was right. He needed a drink. He needed to *panic*. But a drink might serve the same purpose.

"Are you coming?" John asked, and Carson managed to follow him this time. Rodney walked along right beside him. As they headed out of the gateroom Carson found himself wondering if this gave him the right to stare at John's arse.

Not that he would. Or was. But it would clarify things a bit if he knew whether or not he could.

Wouldn't it? He glanced over at Rodney and found his friend already staring -- but he certainly was allowed, since he and John were already lovers. Not that Rodney couldn't have started before then, because who would date a person they didn't enjoy staring at bits of? Carson had no idea how to make himself stop babbling in his head. He called up the urgent repair section of the list and started reading, intently.

"Nice, isn't it?" Rodney asked, startling him. Carson blinked and realised that the section of the list he'd been staring at was superimposed right where he'd not intended to be staring.

"I wasn't -- I was looking at..." He gestured towards his temple. Rodney looked disappointed. Carson swallowed nervously, and tried to remember a time when he felt at all in control of his life. University?

Primary school?

"You don't think it's a nice ass?" Rodney asked.

"Oh, it is," he agreed, then bit his tongue. John grinned at them over his shoulder and Carson thought again about finding a hidden Ancient technology for vanishing through the floor.

"See? Progress, already," Rodney wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

"I'm not -- it isn't," Carson began. He had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to talk himself out of this -- not sure he wanted to, but he couldn't help but feel this was a horrible mistake. He stopped walking, and Rodney stuttered to a stop ahead of him, not quite letting go of Carson's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry," Carson said.

Rodney frowned. "You -- we're just going to *talk*," he said.

But Carson shook his head. He knew what they were going to do. If not now, then certainly later. Unless he said 'no' right now. John came up beside them, and Carson noticed he had a rather intense look of his own. 

"You know that's not what we're going to do," he said calmly. Calmly as he could pretend to be. His heart was pounding fast enough he was sure they could probably tell.

"You don't think it's a good idea?" John asked. He didn't sound...well, like anything. Carson couldn't read what he might be thinking.

"We're not going to make you do anything you don't want to do," Rodney said. "If you don't want to have sex -- it isn't like I'm going to carry you over my shoulder."

Carson started to nod, grateful that Rodney wasn't going to push this. He hoped they would go, and leave him be until he could face them with some semblance of composure.

"I am," John said. Before Carson could do anything more than gape at him, John was kissing him for a second time.

Carson couldn't even get a hand up to push him away -- possibly because his fingers had clawed their way around John's jacket and were holding on. This was very wrong, he tried to tell himself. 

He couldn't remember why, exactly. But he knew he ought to be furious.

John broke the kiss but didn't move -- his face barely an inch away and his breath hot on Carson's face. Panting, and sounding not a little bit angry, as he said, "I don't care if you decide you don't *want* this. But if you say no because you do and think you shouldn't, I'm going to be very annoyed."

It would have been easier to say 'no' anyway if he weren't already hard. If John weren't pressed up against him, able to feel just how much he needed to say 'yes.' But he turned his head just enough to look at Rodney.

Who pushed his way in past John, and grabbed him. Gave him a second kiss of his own, and Carson thought he'd lost his mind when John had kissed him. He'd imagined Rodney gentle, full of care. Not this, shoving his tongue into Carson's mouth, demanding he make way for a kiss that seemed to sear the brain cells out of Carson's skull.

He could feel John's hand on his arm, still feel him pressed up against the left side of his body. Rodney was on the right, both of them pushing him back until he hit the wall. They held him there until Rodney let him go.

They both stepped back half a step. He had plenty of room to run.

All he wanted to do was drop his trousers and tell them to please get on with it. His hand twitched, but he stilled it because he *had* to keep hold of some sense. He tried to remember why, what his objection was. Something about... sex with them. 

He groaned, and felt his hips jut forward. Rodney was there again, and this time his hand pressed down on Carson's cock. Carson shoved his hips forward, rubbing against Rodney's hand.

"Is that a yes?" John asked, his voice quiet despite the way he was staring at them -- as though as soon as Carson nodded, he'd tear off their clothes.

So he swallowed and nodded, and Rodney's hand had found its way into his trousers and was pulling them open. Carson let his head fall back, whimpering. John was there, one hand on Carson's face and kissing him -- rough, intense passion that would have made him come anyway, even without the way that Rodney's hand was pulling on him.

His arse was slamming into the wall as he shoved his hips forward and back, trying to fuck Rodney's hand and get more of John's mouth. His hands were tangled up in clothing - whose, had had no idea. Fingers were playing with the head of his cock, then sliding the foreskin down and jerking him off. John's teeth pulled at his lip and his tongue thrust into his mouth, and all Carson could find it in himself to do was hang on.

He tried to shout, or breathe, and his head hit the wall again. There was cool air on his lips as John let him go, and Rodney's mouth was there and a second hand was on his cock. Carson closed his eyes and shouted, hips jerking of their own accord as they brought him off.

They held him as he came, and afterwards he wanted to slide down the wall and collapse, but his arse was plastered flat against the cool metal of the bulkhead -- Rodney and John were there leaning against him, pressing him back. "I..." He tried to swallow, his throat too dry, suddenly, to make any more sound.

Rodney kissed him lightly and John nuzzled his neck. Carson shivered.

It occurred to him, quite clearly, that he ought return the favor. He could feel both men's erections against him, though neither of them was giving him any indication that they expected anything. From him -- he knew that if he left them to it, they'd turn to each other. Alone in the city and they were well used to making out in the hallways already.

Or he could do something he'd wanted to do for a very long time. Carson let himself sink to his knees, and he put his hand on Rodney's hip.

He heard a gasping noise, and thought there might have been words not-quite spoken. He opened Rodney's trousers, and thought that he had never, in all his time knowing the man -- living in close quarters in a variety of places -- seen him in less than pants and a T-shirt.

A hand landed on his shoulder; whose, he didn't know. He pulled Rodney's trousers and pants out of the way. Rodney was muttering something in a thin, desperate voice. Carson smiled, and opened his mouth.

He thought about teasing him. Kissing him lightly, licking ever so gently. Taking his time and making Rodney fair lose his mind over needing to come. 

But Rodney had a way of getting even with pranksters. Besides, Carson didn't really want to draw this out. He sucked Rodney into his mouth and heard Rodney gasping. Carson pulled him in, not nearly as far as he could, but enough to get Rodney's cock well moistened. Rodney's voice was abruptly cut off and Carson pulled away, looking up to see John kissing Rodney quite thoroughly. Rodney's hand was working its way inside John's trousers and John was using one hand to assist him.

Carson bent his head back down. Took Rodney's cock once more and licked -- imagining what John's tongue was doing in Rodney's mouth, and mimicking it with his own. Rodney made a choked, panting noise and Carson kept going. 

He sucked Rodney's cock in, and pulled his mouth away, hands holding onto Rodney's thighs. He could feel the muscles under his hands trembling. There was Rodney's voice again; he was whispering 'oh god' over and over, and Carson tried to get him louder. He sucked hard and Rodney cried out, echoed by a moan from John. 

Pulling back, he teased Rodney with his tongue, knowing by the sound of it that John had taken Rodney's mouth again. He played with Rodney's cock, tasting him and focusing only on the feel of Rodney's cock in his mouth. Rodney's voice came and went, as John kissed him and broke away. 

Carson heard Rodney say John's name -- then heard him say his own. Carson opened his mouth and pulled Rodney's cock in as far as he could. He heard Rodney gasp, a strangled sound that made Carson grow hard again. John's voice was there, distant as he pressed his mouth against Rodney's skin, saying words that only Rodney -- if anyone -- could hear.

One more moment, then Carson pulled completely away and wrapped his hand around Rodney's cock. Jerked him off two, three times while John had gone back to kissing him, his own cock fucking Rodney's hand in nearly an identical rhythm. John's hand was underneath Rodney's shirt, and his face close against Rodney's neck, then Rodney was coming, hanging onto John and his throat locked tight against any further sound. 

It took him a moment to rise to his feet, but he did, and was pulled into an embrace with John. John kissed him, and he returned it -- the hands on his back were both Rodney's and John's. Rodney was still jerking John off, and Carson reached down as well. He felt, rather than heard, John's groan as he came. They held him, and Carson caught a glimpse of Rodney's face, watching his lover. Carson tried to look away but there was nothing to see but the repair scroll in his head. 

Then Rodney glanced at him and smiled, and John dropped his head forward, coming to rest with a light thump against both their foreheads. They were all leaning against each other, spent and quite disheveled. 

"My room, and a drink?" John asked, and there was a softness in his voice Carson was shocked to hear.

"I may not need a drink any longer," Carson admitted. He reached down and pulled his trousers together and refastened them. He knew if he closed his eyes, he'd fall asleep propped up against the wall. 

"My room, and a fuck?" John said, grinning.

Carson tried to catch his breath. He looked at Rodney, who simply smiled.

"Hey, Carson. Fancy a shag?"

He blinked. Then he laughed. 

Rodney smiled, smugly, at John. "I think that's a yes."

"It's about time." John was still grinning, and Carson felt like he'd got himself caught. In what, he didn't know. His head was spinning and all he could think was that he didn't really remember why he'd intended to say no--

Oh. He did. He sobered quickly, and Rodney and John both frowned at him. He took a deep breath and tried to figure out how to say it. 

"Was... We didn't--" Rodney cut himself off, and Carson could see guilt in his friend's eyes. Carson wanted to brush it away, but he thought maybe he was only going to make it worse.

At least they'd be able to walk away from this still friends, if he said it now.

"There's something I have to tell you."

"If you want to tell me you're gay, it's too late," Rodney joked. There was no humour in his voice, and he sent a worried glance at John, who simply shook his head.

"I... well, it's useless saying I don't want desperately to have sex with you. Both; either of you. We just had a rather vivid demonstration of that, I think."

"But?" John asked, when Carson didn't go on.

Carson couldn't look at him. Didn't want to look at Rodney, but he had to meet his eyes. "But this isn't about sex. Rodney--" He stopped, cursed once, very silently, then said, "I'm in love with you."

Rodney's eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open.

And he didn't say a word.

Carson didn't hear anything from John, either, and was too afraid to look. "I meant it, when I said I wouldn't come between you, too. But... I can't have a casual affair with you. I shouldn't have done this, but... I suppose I wanted to pretend it would be all right if I did." He felt his throat closing up, and stopped trying to explain. 

He took advantage of their lack of reaction, and stepped away. His arm brushed against Rodney's and he hurried another step past, knowing that he had to get as far, and as quickly, as he could.

He heard John say Rodney's name, but Rodney didn't respond. Carson walked faster. He reached the intersection without hearing anything more, then he was around the corner and down the hall.

John and Rodney just let him go.

***********

 

He stopped by his quarters to change clothes and clean himself off as best he could without a shower. He didn't want to stay here that long, afraid they'd come after him. He grabbed his tool-belt and left again, picking a hallway that led as far away from the gateroom and John's quarters and the hallway in-between them as possible.

He made a random, mental stab at the list of repairs and let it highlight itself. Wrong choice -- this was one in the jumper bay, right above the gateroom. He tried to order the repairs according to location in the city and found it rather hard to concentrate.

One item glowed red, and Carson looked at it. Not urgent, but far away and a sort of repair he'd done several times already.

"Thanks, Murdoc," he said softly, knowing he didn't have to speak aloud at all. But it seemed less frightening to talk to himself out loud than silently. 

He found the nearest transporter and sent himself away to the triband section of the city. The team from Earth hadn't been here at all, but Carson had done so a few times. There was no danger here, but it was without power. Carson hadn't needed any more power than could be generated by the handheld generator he had in his toolkit -- an item he'd left two of with the scientists to play with and exclaim over. He didn't know if they'd decided on a use for them yet. The generators were too small to do much more than power small systems for a very short time -- just long enough to test repairs and see if they'd been done correctly.

But it kept them busy, and kept Dr. Weir from yelling at him for not sharing with them everything he learnt.

Carson didn't bother with a handlight as he made his way down the corridors. The map in his mind glowed, showing him the path as clearly as if he could see it with his own eyes. He thought it was no different than navigating with a starlight scope, and it was somehow more comforting to leave the lights off in a place that had seen no life at all for ten thousand years.

When he reached the control panel he'd come to fix -- environmental controls for the next section over -- he dropped his tool-belt and hooked up the generator. The panel powered up slightly, the only working circuits glowing with a soft yellow light. Enough to see his work, and determine just which parts were broken so Murdoc could tell him how to repair it.

For the next several hours he worked. Slowly and carefully, moving down the corridor from one panel to the next. He never noticed when lunchtime came and went, and only looked at the time an hour after dinner when his back told him he had to stand up and stretch or he'd never walk again.

Carson saw that he'd repaired five panels -- in an area of the city they wouldn't be using, so it really didn't matter if the environmental controls were sensitive enough to make it comfortable. He couldn't even turn them on beyond verifying they worked, because all the available power was routed to the areas of the city they lived in -- and to the shield, for now, to keep the tonnes of ocean at bay. They'd lowered Atlantis that morning before anyone had gone back to Earth, to ensure that everything was in working order and they'd have a city to come back to.

Carson suddenly realised that Dr. Weir had known he was staying. She'd not said a word as they'd lowered the city and double-checked all the systems. But she'd known, all the same.

That reminded him of his two guests. He couldn't hope to avoid them for long. For tonight, at least, and maybe well into the week if he left his quarters early and didn't get back 'til late. Eventually they'd run into each other, but Carson hoped that they would have agreed to pretend none of this had happened.

He gathered up his tools and switched off the handheld generator, standing still for a moment to let his eyes readjust to the darkness. Then he headed back home, already sorting through what tasks he could busy himself with tomorrow.

When he stepped into his quarters, he froze. Rodney was sitting on his bed.

Rodney tapped his earpiece and said into his radio, "John. He's here."

Carson dropped his belt on the floor and took a step forward. He got no farther before Rodney was on his feet.

"We didn't know where you'd gone, and we figured you'd have to come back here eventually -- or hide out in your office, which is where John's been as well as prowling around. We couldn't find you on the internal sensors which meant you went someplace where they don't work and what the HELL were you thinking by doing that? If you'd broken your leg or had a heart attack or released an alien bug how are we supposed to help you which, I might remind you, is part of the reason we're here!"

When Rodney paused, Carson wasn't sure it was safe to speak. But Rodney kept quiet, glaring at him as if to say he'd better have an apology and explanation ready.

"I'm sorry," he offered. "I wasn't in any trouble."

"Yes, well, thank you *so* much for letting us know. Or does that thing in your head also provide you with radio contact?"

Carson raised his hand to his ear, only then remembering he'd taken his earpiece off that morning. No one had been wearing them to return to Earth and he had seen no point in keeping his radio with him.

"I'm sorry," he said again, this time meaning it.

Rodney didn't look very much appeased. He tossed Carson's radio at him, and Carson caught it, juggling it for a second before hanging on. Carson didn't look up as he slipped it on -- not sure if there was any need to be in radio contact now, but afraid to try arguing about it.

"And don't you dare go into unexplored sections of the city -- not without backup, not without telling us, not without permission from someone who can assure you that it's safe!"

"I've not gone--"

"I don't care what that interface thing tells you! Unless it's been cleared by *us*, by a full contingent of trained military and scientific personnel who apparently can think more clearly than a medical doctor who doesn't know enough to not disappear in an alien city where *god* knows what could happen--"

He broke off as the door slid open, and John stepped inside. He stopped just inside the door, and folded his arms. Nodding, he said, "Go ahead. Sounds like you have it under control."

"I didn't--" Carson began, not really wanting to get chewed out with an audience. Not that he couldn't see why they thought it necessary. 

It had been a stupid thing to do. Would have been, except he was pretty sure Murdoc would have notified them if he'd run into any trouble. He knew enough not to say so at the moment.

"You clear everything with us from now on, understand?" Rodney was almost shouting, and he'd drawn himself up -- Carson couldn't recall when he'd learnt to be in command, but he'd done so rather thoroughly.

He didn't like the idea of being under Rodney's orders -- but technically John was the one in command, here, and he knew John would only repeat exactly what Rodney was saying.

Sighing to himself, Carson nodded. 

Rodney glared for another moment before nodding back, sharply. "All right, then. As long as we're clear."

"We're clear," Carson said, irritated at the heavy-handed way Rodney was ordering him about. "I didn't intend to worry you and I'll stay in the center of the city from now on. You don't have to shout at me like I were an idiot."

"I do have to shout and you ARE an idiot and you don't *get* it do you?" Rodney grabbed his arms -- and instead of shouting, or shaking him like Carson half-expected -- Rodney kissed him again, fast. He was breathing hard when he said, "You are *not* disappearing on me. Some ancient alien thing could come out of the walls and kill you without warning. You could fall down a stairwell and break your neck, or electrocute yourself because you don't know what you're doing, or a hundred other things I can't even begin to catalogue."

Rodney stopped, and swallowed. He didn't let go of Carson's arms.

Carson looked over at John, who rolled his eyes in what was, oddly enough, an affectionate gesture. John twirled his finger at his head, and grinned. Carson looked back at Rodney, who was only just seeming to pull himself together. He tried giving Rodney a kiss in return. 

It wasn't at all about passion. Rodney opened his mouth and hung onto Carson's arms, and all he could feel was desperation. Carson brought his hands up, resting them on Rodney's arms, awkwardly since Rodney wasn't letting him go. His eyes were wide with fear when Carson leant back and looked at him.

He kissed Rodney once more, lightly on the lips. Then he nodded. "I won't go wandering off anymore," he promised. 

"Good." Rodney's voice was shaking. "And now I want dinner, because I haven't eaten anything since noon because I didn't think we could catch you in the mess hall."

"I haven't eaten either," he admitted, and was amused when Rodney regained his composure -- taking Carson by the elbow and steering him back towards the door.

"Then that's where we're going."

Carson thought about pointing out he had some rations in his quarters -- but he didn't. He let Rodney lead him out, John falling in behind them. In his head, the maintenance list dimmed slightly.

the end


	2. Chapter Two

Dinner was surprisingly normal. What passed for normal in another galaxy for a man whose head had been taken over by an ancient repair schedule and was apparently being accepted into an established relationship with the man he loved and his lover.

They talked about nothing important -- the things Rodney wanted to do in the lab while there was no one around to disrupt his work. The chances that the SGC would fuck up Weir's personnel requests. Whether or not any team John liked had even made it to the playoffs and if someone would think to let him know when they returned to Atlantis.

Skirting around topics that needed to be discussed, but no one seemed pressed to do that just yet. As such, dinner went smoothly and it was somewhat of a surprise when John stood up and took their empty plates away, and Rodney turned to him and said, "So. My place or yours?"

Carson was glad he'd finished eating, as he was fairly certain he would have choked.

"Oh, come on. You didn't think you were sleeping alone tonight?"

How the devil Rodney could be so calm about it, Carson didn't know. "I was trying not to think about it," he confessed.

Rodney's face fell, slightly -- but it was the put-on sort of disappointment, and not sincere. "You don't want to?"

"I do," Carson said, seriously. He watched as Rodney's expression changed to a smile without any hint of smugness that made him look like a boy. "But I think we should -- all of us -- talk, before we--"

"Talk can wait 'til tomorrow," John interrupted. "The only thing anyone has to say right now is whether you want Rodney to yourself tonight, or if we share."

It took Carson several moments to unswallow his tongue and get oxygen back into his lungs. How could they be so cavalier.... Well, then they'd had all day to discuss it, hadn't they? He'd holed himself up with his repair work and thought as little about it as he had been able to manage.

He realised John and Rodney were both watching him. Waiting.

Patiently.

"You've discussed this?" he found himself asking, probably to avoid having to answer the question.

"We didn't have a lot else to do all day," Rodney said, sharply. "What with us in different places waiting for someone to show up."

Carson glanced down at the tabletop. "I'm sorry. I--"

"None of that," John interrupted. "Just answer the question."

And there it was, wasn't it? Carson forced himself to look up at Rodney. "I do very much want to spend the night with you."

There was that smile again, the wide, beaming joy that Carson had fallen in love with. "That wasn't the question, actually," Rodney said. But it was clear it had been well said.

Carson cleared his throat, and had no idea how to say what it was he wanted.

He supposed it would be easier if he *knew*. He'd thought about being with Rodney, before. Thought about it quite a lot, even when he'd known -- believed, rather -- that it wouldn't ever happen.

He hadn't quite thought about John in the same way, beyond noticing the man's obvious attractiveness. He *did* have a nice arse. And he kissed like the devil himself.

And perhaps having him there would keep Carson from losing himself in Rodney.

"I...hell. I don't know."

"We could flip a coin?" John suggested. It didn't sound like he was concerned either way.

Rodney said, "We could all think of a number between one and the square root of negative one."

John and Carson both stared at him. "How is that going to answer the question?" Carson finally asked.

Rodney shrugged. "Whoever's the closest to the right number gets to go first?"

John's hand shot into the air immediately. "Twelve."

Carson just looked from Rodney to John and back again. He segued into a head shake which made Rodney give him a concerned look. "Fine. Both of you. Come on, then."

He stood up and walked away from the table, knowing they'd either follow him, or he'd have some peace for a night.

The walk back to his quarters was longer than it had ever been. He could hear John and Rodney behind him, footsteps ringing on the metal floor. None of them said a word and Carson hoped that they were as nervous as he was. It might have made more sense to hope they weren't nervous and that at least one of them would know what they were doing. But Carson didn't want to be the only one who tripped over his own feet trying to get undressed.

Undressed. His brain latched onto the word and spun slowly around. Yes, they'd already done this once. If fumbling at each other in the hallway could be considered having sex. But the notion of doing this deliberately made him feel like he'd never had sex before, at all.

He prayed to god this wouldn't go like his actual first time had. The fact that he and Seamus had survived the encounter at all was due entirely to Seamus' quick reflexes and the shatter-resistance of pyrex. They'd managed to have another go at it, though, and eventually figured out how it was done. Learnt to enjoy it, even, and that gave him hope that this wasn't going to be a bad idea.

"I still think boxers," John said as Carson reached his door. Carson turned and looked at him. "When you sleep, I mean. I can tell what you wear under your uniform."

"I'm still hoping for more of a 'sleep in the nude' outfit," Rodney said. "I find it more comfortable, myself."

And *that* image distracted Carson from whatever he might have said in response -- such as demanding to know how often they'd discussed what he slept in. He opened his door and went inside, and if they followed... they could find out for themselves.

Not surprisingly, they followed. Carson wondered whether to leave the lights low, or turn them up, and settled for half-lit. Adjusting them  
with a quick thought, he hoped he'd guessed right. Not that he didn't want to see, but -- well, he was nervous and that was all there was to it.

Rodney clapped his hands, once. "Do we want to dive right in, or would anyone prefer a drink, first?"

"Oh, very romantic," Carson told him, rolling his eyes.

"And 'fancy a shag' is more romantic?" Rodney raised an eyebrow.

"I never said it was," Carson objected. "I'm just-- Nevermind. What... what are we doing?"

"Is that a logistics question, or a metaphysical one?" John asked. "I can answer the first one. The second is going to require alcohol."

"Er... logistics, actually," Carson said. "I was hoping to ignore the metaphysical aspects for awhile."

"Excellent!" John looked pleased. "Then I'd like to recommend -- first, we need something other than the bed." He pointed at Carson's bed, which was just big enough to fit two.

Rodney frowned. "Hmm. You're right. Maybe if we grab a couple of mattresses and put them on the floor? Not the best option, but--"

Carson walked over to the bed and pulled out the frame. The catch was hidden and impossible to locate unless you knew it was there -- and had the ATA gene for triggering the mechanism. But the schematic for expanding the bed frame was simple to understand. They'd still need another mattress, but they could steal one from next door easily enough.

He looked up to find John and Rodney staring at him.

"Do they *all* do that?" Rodney asked.

"I think so," Carson said. He didn't really want to call up the details for every bed frame in Atlantis. "Yours and John's do, which is... all that matters, I believe?" He also didn't want to know how closely Murdoc was following the conversation, given that the only schematics that had popped up were their two.

Rodney and John exchanged a look which Carson couldn't read. Then, "So let's go steal some mattresses," John said.

Rodney nodded, then grinned. "Isn't Kavanagh's room just down the hall?"

John made a face. "I am *not* having sex on his mattress."

"But we'll have to put it back before everyone returns from Earth."

"I... OK, a point." John nodded.

"There's dozens of rooms not being used at all," Carson reminded them. Why did he feel like he'd just acquired custody of two small children?

"And Weir said she might be able to find someone else to bring back and leave Kavanagh on Earth," John said.

"Oh, really? I did ask for a ferret," Rodney said. John gave him a look like he thought Rodney wasn't making any sense.

"Mattress," Carson repeated.

"I'll go. You two... well, don't wait for me. But don't spend it all in one place."

Carson double-checked the index in his head to make sure there was no Ancient technology that allowed one to vanish through the floor. Nothing obvious, but several promising entries that he'd have to look into -- possibly before John could get back.

John left, and Carson found Rodney staring at him. "Er... yes?"

"Wow," was all Rodney said.

Carson found himself grinning like a loon. "Aye. I find myself thinking the same thing. Are you--"

"If that sentence ends with 'sure you want to do this', I'm going to strip you down right here and fuck you until you stop asking stupid questions."

Carson blinked. He tried to find his voice. "...sure you want to do this?" he asked, quickly, knowing he was grinning eagerly and not really caring.

"Right," Rodney said, nodding with an air of determination. He walked over, stopped in front of Carson and took hold of Carson's shirt. Carson stood still, not sure if he really meant to proceed with such force -- but willing to allow it. He had other shirts. Not many, but enough he could spare one to Rodney.

But Rodney grabbed it by the hem and yanked upwards -- not tearing the fabric, but making Carson have to raise his arms fast to avoid being strangled. Rodney threw the shirt behind him onto the floor, then put his hands on Carson's trousers.

He half-expected some hesitation -- a last minute query if this were all right. But Rodney didn't even pause. He unzipped the fly and pulled them down, trousers and underwear together. Carson hurriedly stepped out of them, tripping over his boots and the fabric tangled around his feet. Rodney just pushed him down onto the bed, missing the mattress, and yanked his boots and socks off.

Carson didn't try very hard to crawl over onto the mattress half of the bed. He did try to roll over, off of his extremely hard cock so he wouldn't cause himself any damage before Rodney could have a chance at him.

After nearly throwing the last of Carson's clothes across the room, Rodney simply stood at the foot of the bed and looked at him. Carson had to fight the urge to cover himself. He had to fight it again as his door opened and John came in carrying a mattress. He paused just inside the doorway and stared.

"I found a mattress," he said in a casual tone that didn't at all reach his eyes. He was as tense as Rodney -- both of them standing there, still fully dressed, damn them. Staring at him.

John walked over and laid the mattress on the bed, then slipped off his jacket.

"Roll over," Rodney said, in a tone halfway between commanding, and gentle.

"Which direction?" Carson asked, shocking himself at being able to speak at all.

Rodney and John looked at each other, mouthed a few things Carson couldn't make out. John shrugged and Rodney nodded. "Onto your back."

Carson tried to swallow the whimper and he did as he was told. He wasn't sure where to put his legs -- feet on the bed, lay them out flat, go ahead and bring his knees to his chest where he really wanted them to be? As long as they stopped standing there gaping at him, and one of them got over here and did something, he didn't try to decide.

"Oh, yeah." John knelt on the bed beside him. Looking down at him, his expression was full of hunger. John reached out and placed a hand on Carson's chest, lighting running his palm down Carson's side. "Did anyone think to bring some lube?"

"The drawer," Carson said, pointing to the sidetable. He didn't want to explain why he had it. But they didn't ask, and John leaned across him to reach for it. Lying on top of him, and Carson had thought he was as hard as he could get. But John's weight on him, regardless that he was still mostly dressed, made his cock jump. He didn't fight back the groan, and John looked down at him, without moving away.

"Too heavy?" he asked, though Carson was pretty sure he knew exactly why he was moaning.

Carson didn't bother answering. He moved his hips, trying to get his legs up, and he felt Rodney's hands on his legs. Pulling them up, exposing him and pushing his cock not-so-inadvertantly against John. John handed over the lube and shifted just enough to reach Carson's mouth. He kissed him, then, even as Carson felt a finger, cool and slick, touch his arse.

He whimpered into the kiss. He opened his mouth to let John in -- didn't have to do a thing to let Rodney have him. His knees were pushed into John's side, and John's tongue was rubbing his own, pushing his way into Carson's mouth. The same way Rodney's finger was opening him up, moving inside him and making him need desperately to gasp for air.

He grabbed onto John's shirt, not extraordinarily glad he was still clothed -- but none of them seemed ready to stop long enough to fix that. He certainly didn't want to let John go, even though he wanted to feel skin. Feel more than John's mouth and Rodney's finger-- He gasped as suddenly there were two. Stretching him, now, and Carson arched his back, wanting to push himself down onto Rodney's hand.

"Oh, god, yes," John breathed, then began laying kisses all down Carson's neck and collarbone. Light, and quick, and almost not at all like the fierce kiss they'd begun with. It didn't matter, because it was all driving Carson crazy, anyway. When Rodney's fingers disappeared he was able to catch his breath, and his mind cleared just enough he could try to look to see what he was doing.

What he was doing, was removing his clothes. Dropping his shirt and trousers on the floor, then he was there, naked, and kneeling on the bed between Carson's legs. Carson couldn't help but whimper again, pulling his legs up even more, pressing John against his torso to let Rodney at him.

"Oh, *god*." John had turned his head and was watching. Still lying across him, but staring at Rodney. Watching as Rodney moved closer, and Carson could feel the head of his cock at his arsehole. John's breathing was growing faster -- odd that he could hear it more clearly than he could feel his own. Maybe he wasn't breathing at all.

"Oh, god, Rodney...." John was doing all the talking for him, so he didn't need to breathe. Rodney was just sitting there, not entering him. Carson tried to shift downwards, but he couldn't move with John still on top of him. He felt a hand -- not sure whose -- caress his thigh.

"Come on, already," John ordered, and Carson whispered a silent thank you.

Because Rodney did as requested, and pushed himself inside. Fucked him, oh so slowly and Carson was sure he would probably die before Rodney could fuck him properly. John was still talking, saying things that Carson thought might only be inside his head. Maybe John was reading his mind.

Carson moaned as Rodney pulled back out a bit and he thought seriously about killing him. Killing him and getting John to fuck him, if he'd promise to do so and not tease. But then Rodney was moving inside him again, and going farther this time.

"Oh, fuck yes," John said, and Carson realised that John was staring. *Staring* at him being fucked by Rodney.

He nearly came, right there. He had no idea why he didn't because he felt like the only other option was to explode into a thousand pieces. Rodney didn't seem to notice his problem, as he just kept moving god-so-slowly in and out.

Now John was the one whimpering. He reached down into his trousers, his weight falling for a moment fully onto Carson. Carson tried to reach over to help, happy to get a hand on John's cock. It took a bit of doing, given that he could barely think clearly or move with any agility at all. But he found his hand being wrapped around John's cock, and he began to stroke it. This was something he could do even without brain cells working properly.

Rodney was still going slow. In, out, like there was no sex going on at all and the man was just thinking. Carson lifted his head to get a better look, knowing that if there was the slightest bit of distraction on Rodney's face, he was going to make him pay.

But Rodney was staring at where Carson's hand was moving -- Carson slowed his hand down to match the torturous rhythm Rodney had set. Back and forth as Rodney thrust in and pulled out, until Carson couldn't be sure which of them was following the other. Ironic, then, that he would be torturing *himself.*

"Please, dammit," John begged, and he put his hand over Carson's. He began jerking himself off with a much faster stroke -- which Rodney did not follow. But it didn't seem to matter, because Carson was about to come, right along with John who was jerking himself off with Carson's hand. John was still staring at Rodney fucking him, and dear god how could Rodney just be there as though none of this was happening?

Carson gasped, and couldn't control the long, keening moan that crawled out of his throat. He was coming, and he didn't try to fight it, didn't try to muffle the noises like he'd once had to do. His body tightened, and if John hadn't been atop him he felt he might have flung himself from the bed.

He heard someone whispering; it sounded like a deep appreciation of what he was doing. That was fine, he was happy to do it. His every cell was vanishing into the ether and he was fairly certain from the sound of it that John's were as well. His hand was still gripped around John's cock, and he heard a sharp, loud shout.

"Oh, fuck," Rodney said, and finally -- finally, god! -- he began fucking Carson as hard as he ought.

Carson's orgasm was winding down, but he didn't try to move. He let his body collapse and just be there for Rodney to fuck as he pleased. His cock twitched at the thought as John rolled away. Not far -- he stood up and lost the rest of his clothing. Then he leaned over and gave Rodney a long kiss. Touched him, pinching a nipple and running his hand down Rodney's chest, to his stomach. Held him as Rodney's eyes began to roll up, and Carson could only lie there and watch.

Rodney made not a single noise as he came, though it might have been the way John's mouth never moved from his. Either way, there was a moment in which none of them were moving and the room was silent. Carson held himself still until the moment Rodney began to fall sideways. He pulled his leg out of the way and helped John guide Rodney down onto the bed. John followed, and the resulting pile made Carson wonder why he'd bothered expanding the bed at all.

There were kisses exchanged, and hands wandering and petting. But otherwise no one moved and before he knew it, Carson was falling  
asleep in the tangle.

Waking up was a slow, extremely comfortable affair. There was a warm body nestled in his arms, a leg tangled in-between his, and absolutely no part of his body that was cold -- which meant that John had failed to steal the blanket during the night.

Rodney shifted a little, thinking that there was a reason why his brain was telling him he could stay in bed today. Nothing on the schedule... aha. Yes. No work for a month, because everyone had gone to Earth.

His eyes snapped open as the rest of the previous day flooded his brain and he found Carson's sleeping face only a few inches away from his own.

Oh. Oh, yeah. Not 'oh yeah' in a bad way, he hastened to assure himself. But -- wow.

He hadn't actually thought Carson would say yes. He'd been hoping, wishing for it since Antarctica and meeting him for the first time and hearing that voice and seeing those eyes and that ass. But he'd resigned himself to a world of 'no' until -- was it only yesterday? Good thing Rodney was genius enough not to have hesitated when Carson had agreed because if he had, Rodney would have to turn in his Mensa card.

Carson stirred and Rodney found his thoughts stuttering to a halt. God, he was beautiful. Handsome. Guys were handsome, sunsets were beautiful. Carson was handsome.

And sexy as anything, and Rodney wondered if it would be too much of a morning-after cliche to wake Carson and John up to have another round. Of course that would mean getting his arm back from under Carson's head and reviving it first so he'd have the use of it. That thought led to whether or not he would rather go to the bathroom, then get a cup of coffee, and *then* have morning-after sex.

Since he didn't have to prevent John from rushing off to work, nor field frantic calls from the lab of people saying that if he didn't get down there right now the city was going to blow up -- he thought he might just manage it today.

Plan made, Rodney leaned down and gave each sleeping face a kiss -- keeping his mouth closed because he might be having sex with them but that didn't mean he had to endure morning breath -- and eased himself out of the bed. Magically expanding bed, he remembered, and added it to the ever-growing list of things he had to make Carson show him and gripe about the fact he had to *make* Carson do it instead of sharing freely.

He might actually be able to get through his list in the next four weeks. They had time, and it wasn't like Carson was going to get away from him again. If he had to duct tape him to Rodney's ankle, he wasn't going anywhere without Rodney shadowing him.

Second-most important business of the morning dealt with, Rodney wandered out of the bathroom and over to the corner of Carson's room that served as a kitchenette. He had no idea what Carson had by way of coffee substitute -- Atlantis had run out a month ago, and didn't every scientist in his department have strict orders to bring back more -- but he knew there would be something that could charitably be called tea. Whether or not he wanted tea was another question entirely. He set water on the hot place to boil, and dug around to find three cups.

He only found two, so he made a mental note to steal Christie's coffee mug and bring it down here. He was getting the so-called tea ready when he heard noise from the bed. Glancing over, he saw John leaning over and placing a kiss on Carson's cheek.

Rodney just stared for a moment, not bothering to wonder why he was grinning like a sap. John looked up and his expression turned into one of eager interest -- because of the tea, Rodney knew. He'd spent enough mornings with John to know the difference between 'naked Rodney' and 'bring me that cup.' Though he pretended otherwise, John was just as addicted to caffeine as Rodney was.

"It's still seeping," Rodney said.

John opened his mouth to say something, paused, then frowned. "It's tea?"

"Go figure. The Scots never have learned how to be a civilized people." Rodney glanced at Carson, but he didn't stir.

"I thought tea *was* civilized," John said, getting out of bed and walking over to get the cup of tea, despite the fact it wouldn't be drinkable for another three minutes. Or ever, depending on what blend it was.

"Coffee is civilized. Beer, also. Fresh black tea from Tetley's, possibly. But the stuff we've been getting from the Athosian village? Is like pouring water over grass."

"So why are we drinking it?" John took a sip of his, then looked surprised. He stared into the cup as Rodney answered him.

"Because neither of us wants to go back to my quarters and get-- what? What's wrong?"

John was motioning towards Rodney's cup, trying to either pull it away from him, or dump it onto his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Taste it!"

He started to ask why, then figured it would be easier to taste, as directed. He did so, then took another taste. He swirled the water a bit, trying to stir it. In case that made a difference. Then he took another taste.

Rodney set his cup down on the table, and stalked over to the bed. He shook Carson's shoulder. Carson muttered, and rolled away from him.

"Wake up, Carson. Where did you get the instant coffee?"

Carson didn't stir. Rodney thumped him this time, not trying to actually cause damage. Yet. Carson muttered something distinctly cranky and rolled away farther. In the bed that was big enough for him to do so, Rodney noted again.

"Carson!" John snapped, having come over to assist.

Carson finally opened one eye. "Whuh?" He blinked at them blearily.

"Coffee," Rodney said.

"Do' wan any, thankee." Carson closed his eyes again.

"Where did you get it," Rodney asked again. "And why didn't you *tell* anyone?" It didn't really matter to Rodney that the instant coffee tasted like *crap* coffee. It wasn't good for instant instant coffee. It was more like instant coffee's third cousin twice removed.

It was the most coffee-like thing he'd had in weeks. He shook Carson again.

There was a moment when Carson didn't respond, and Rodney thought he might have to dump Carson out of the bed. But eventually Carson opened his eyes and looked up at them.

"What are you on about?"

"You have instant coffee," Rodney said. "And I'm deeply hurt you didn't tell us."

Carson was blinking at them again and Rodney wondered if he was really awake. He certainly looked more asleep than awake.

It occurred to him that a half-awake, naked Carson was possibly the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. But he told himself to focus. Coffee was *important*, dammit. Not as important as giving Carson a kiss, but at the moment he was irritated. He took another drink of his coffee and could feel the various caffeine-deprived systems in his brain waking up after a long, cold sleep.

"I don't have coffee," Carson finally said.

"Then what, pray tell, are we drinking?"

Carson took a moment to focus on the cups in his and John's hands. "Tea?" he said, obviously guessing. He rubbed a hand over his face and yawned. Blinked again and Rodney had a feeling that if he didn't keep Carson talking, he'd fall back to sleep.

"It isn't tea. It looks like tea, it was in a tin labeled 'tea', but it is clearly coffee. Not great coffee, to be sure. But coffee nonetheless. And we want to know where you got it."

There was a long moment when Carson just looked at them. Then he pushed himself into a sitting position, and stared at the cups in their hands. "Tea," he repeated.

"Clearly you aren't awake." Rodney sat down beside Carson and showed him the inside of his cup. He pulled at Carson's shoulder to bring him forward so he could get a sniff. Carson did so, then looked up at him. Eyes still half-open, and Rodney felt badly for not letting him go back to sleep.

Sort of.

Carson nodded and made as though to lie back down. John caught him, and kept him upright. "Just tell us where you got it, and you can sleep in as long as you like. Promise."

"From Teyla," Carson said, yawning again.

Rodney glanced at John, who looked equally confused. "She doesn't have coffee."

"No," Carson agreed, nodding. "Tea." Carson's eyes were closed again, and despite being held upright, he falling back asleep.

"Carson! Taste this." Rodney held the cup out. Carson tried to open his eyes, and after a bit, took the cup from Rodney. He sipped it, then nodded.

"Seeped a bit long," he said, giving the cup back.

"It isn't tea," Rodney insisted.

Carson finally opened an eye, and finally, for the first time all morning, looked awake. "Who was it warned me I was sleeping with morning people?" he asked.

"We're only morning people when we have our coffee," John said.

It took a moment for Carson to process this, then -- blessedly -- his face cleared. "Oh. Oh, the tea. Aye, Teyla said you'd like it. Tastes like coffee, if it's brewed right."

Rodney stared at him. John was as well, which made Rodney feel better about not having a fucking clue what Carson meant. Carson looked back at them, yawned, rubbed his face and sighed. "She gave me the tea a couple weeks ago. Said she'd tried to give some to the pair of you but you," he nodded at Rodney, "Turned your nose up as soon as the word 'tea' left her mouth. She said you'd hear about it eventually, and it would serve you right."

Rodney looked at John. "What did *you* do to piss her off?"

John shrugged. "Could be any number of things."

"So now that your great mystery is solved, might I be excused for a moment?" Carson nodded towards the bathroom.

"I still think you should have told us." Rodney took another drink of his tea as Carson scooted past him to get out of the bed. Damn, but it tasted like coffee. Almost. Close enough that Carson was going to-- walk away from them, bare-ass naked.

Rodney dropped his cup.

"Yeah. I was thinking the same thing," John said.

"We're brilliant," Rodney said.

"Because we decided to be here when he walked away like that?"

"Exactly." Rodney waited for Carson to come back out, because then he'd be walking towards them.

"I believe I was the one who figured out he wanted to sleep with you," John said with a smug tone.

Rodney couldn't believe he was trying to out-do him on *this*. "And I'm the one who made a pass at him first!"

"Which he didn't even realise was you making a pass!" John countered.

"That's not my fault! My point is, *I* decided he had a great arse and needed to be naked as often as possible. In my presence," he hastened to add.

"Only because I didn't even meet him until we were ready to come to Atlantis." John frowned at him.

"You don't really argue about this, do you?" Carson asked. They turned and Rodney cursed.

Carson was wearing a bathrobe. And looking at them like he was blushing red from head to toe, only they couldn't tell because -- bathrobe.

"We also argue about whether or not Radek would--"

Rodney elbowed John in the ribs. Too late; Carson's eyebrows had crawled straight up and his eyes had gone wide enough to qualify him for a manga publication.

"Ignore him," Rodney said. "Why are you wearing clothes?"

Carson looked down, as though making sure he knew what Rodney was talking about. He looked confused when he raised his head again. "Because I don't fancy wandering the hallways in my all-together?"

"We're having sex in the hallway again? Cool." John set his cup down.

"I meant, breakfast." Carson seemed a lot less poised than he had last night. Well, Rodney amended the thought, he'd only seemed poised once they'd got him aroused enough to stop stammering.

Rodney was about to cast his vote with John, when his stomach growled. Carson gave him a very slight but extremely amused grin. That, coupled with the thought he was reluctantly having about maybe not going so fast that Carson decided this was a horrible mistake, made him say, "We can do breakfast."

John nodded, though he looked disappointed. Then he brightened. "Sex in the mess hall?"

Carson made a choking sound.

"At the biologists' table," Rodney suggested.

"I just wanted oatmeal," Carson said, in a weak voice.

"Oh, not again." Carson set down his spoon. He'd got halfway through his oatmeal before John had flung a spoonful of his own at him. Warm oatmeal had landed right on his shoulder and stuck there.

John just grinned, evilly. It was a look Carson was definitely learning to associate heavily with the man.

"He just likes licking it off," Rodney said casually. He was sitting beside Carson, with John on the opposite side of the table. Both John and Rodney were completely and utterly naked -- which Carson found extremely distracting. He'd kept his robe on until they'd sat down -- at which point Rodney had pulled it open and down, and explained that it wasn't fair for him to wear a robe while everyone else in the room was naked.

"So I've noticed." Carson didn't try to wipe it off. He'd done that the first morning, and been faced with not only a severely pouting John Sheppard, but he'd had oatmeal flung at him from both directions.

It had all led to a very bewildering day -- they'd actually had sex in the mess hall, which meant Carson wouldn't be able to eat here ever again once everyone returned from Earth. They'd done some heavy petting in the hallway, and when Carson had suggested getting some work done in the gateroom, he'd been given front row seat to John and Rodney making out on the floor in front of the stargate.

He'd thought about dialing the gate, just to see how fast they could run. But he'd stifled the urge, and now -- with John leaning over the table to start licking him clean -- he thought perhaps he should have done it.

Not that he really minded having John's tongue all over him while Rodney made encouraging noises. But he wished something about this whole situation could have been something he'd not have been ashamed to tell his mother about.

He realised he hadn't given his family a single thought since he'd seen John and Rodney standing in the gateroom two days ago.

"What's wrong?" John looked up, half-lying across the table.

Carson shook his head.

"Carson?" Rodney touched his hand, briefly.

"Sorry, I-- just had a bit of...homesickness."

John raised an eyebrow. "While I'm licking oatmeal off your shoulder? This was something you did a lot, back home?" Despite his words, his tone was soft and serious.

"I was just wondering how I'd ever explain you to my mum. I think she'd.... No. After Josh, she'd likely just insist you both come for dinner, Sundays. But I don't think I'd be able to eat a single bite for fear what you two would be doing under the table."

John smiled. "I'd be very good at your mother's," he promised.

"In the car home, after, he'd be bad," Rodney said, matter-of-factly.

Carson couldn't believe they were sitting there, talking about impossibilities as though it were only a matter of time. As though either of them would ever really go visit his mum -- though of course John and Rodney could.

He pushed himself away from the table suddenly. Trying to hold back the rush of emotion, he felt Rodney take his arm and pull him over. John spun around to sit on the table in front of him, reaching out for Carson's other arm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be sorry," Rodney said, and Carson found himself being pulled close. He let his head fall onto Rodney's shoulder and tried very hard not to cry.

The next day they were scattered around Carson's room. They'd determined that each of their beds could accommodate them all, but Carson's room had a window and was therefore the one they ended up spending the most time in.

John was sitting in one chair with his feet propped up on another, reading War and Peace. Rodney had no idea if he'd finished it once and was halfway through for a yet another time, or was still on his first reading. First Atlantean reading, anyway. Rodney was thinking about his latest version of the Theory of Unification -- and watching Carson sleep. Carson was proving over and over again that he was not a morning person; they'd quickly discovered that they had to let him go back to sleep after morning-sex, or he was grumpy all day.

As Rodney watched, Carson stirred and rolled onto his back. The blanket was wrapped around his hip and the motion had exposed his entire upper torso. The blanket was also nicely outlining Carson's lower half; Rodney decided this was better than unification. For now, at any rate. Until he could get his calculator and check some figures.

He let himself look at everything, taking his time. Curves of muscle, the jut of hip bone. The soft curve of his stomach and the wrinkle of fabric as the blanket was stretched not-tightly-enough over his genitals. Rodney thought about pulling the blanket back, even though he knew perfectly well what Carson looked like. Instead he let his gaze travel upwards, along Carson's chest and to his face.

With some surprise, Rodney saw that Carson was awake. He was staring at the ceiling, apparently unaware that Rodney was indulging himself. Rodney took advantage of the chance to look at Carson's face, thinking how he had never really been a beard man. He was rapidly changing his opinion, though.

Then he realised there was something odd about Carson's expression. He wasn't frowning, exactly, but he seemed intent. As though he were reading -- he looked like John did, only John had a book to stare at.

Oh. Of course. Rodney felt like a fool, and was glad he hadn't said anything out loud. "Hey," he said, quietly, not knowing if he would startle Carson or not.

But Carson just glanced over and raised an eyebrow. Rodney smiled.

"Morning, sleepy head."

Carson groaned and rolled his eyes, then pushed himself upright, scooting back to lean against the wall. Unfortunately he tugged the blanket up with him and let it cover his lap. Rodney frowned, but Carson seemed to miss the message.

"If people wouldn't insist on waking up at four in the morning," he began. Then he just shook his head. "It's a decent hour, now, for reasonable people to be waking up."

"What time is it?" The planet they were on had a 27 and a third hour rotation; no one had really adjusted to having an extra three hours and thirty three point three repeating hours every day. All the astrophysicists were still arguing over whether they should save up the point threes and have a longer seventh day of the week, or have a longer month once a year.

"It's nearly eight," Carson said. Rodney looked for the clock to verify the time; Carson shook his head and tapped his temple.

"That thing gives you the time, as well?"

"And temperature and, if I ask for it, a weather report. Don't," he added, giving Rodney a dark look. "I'm not asking. Go check the control center, if you want to know."

"Fine, be that way." Rodney sat back in his chair, pretending that he hadn't been about to ask. He was deeply envious, though. It hadn't occurred to him to ask what information was available on the maintenance interface. He'd had the impression it was just work orders and repair manuals. Even though Carson didn't seem to be enjoying it, Rodney thought that having all that information displayed right in your brain would be absolutely fantastic.

Wondering what other information there was, he gestured towards the ceiling and asked, "So. That's what you were looking at?" he asked, knowing he sounded as lame as it was possible to sound without asking someone what their sign was.

Carson nodded, and he looked tired. "Yes. There's a list. Murdoc and I are having a bit of a disagreement as to what counts as 'urgent' and what counts as 'get off your lazy arse and go to work'." He glanced over at them. "That's a paraphrase, by the way. It's not talking to me like.. like I thought it was, before."

"Oh." Rodney sat upright and tried to keep himself from bouncing out of the chair. "So what's up? We could do that this morning. I'm going with you, you remember."

Carson gave him a long, unamused look. "I thought you'd tell me to stay in bed, instead of running off to work," Carson said.

Rodney stared at him, confused. Instead of playing with brand new toys? "Have you *met* me?"

"I want you to stay in bed," John offered. They both looked at him and he shrugged. "Not really, but I thought someone should say it."

Carson was just still staring at them, disbelievingly. "For the last five days you two have barely let me get dressed, much less do anything that resembles a fair day's work. Or even a fair half hour's work. Now all of a sudden we're going on a field trip to the saline vats?"

"Is that where we're going?" Rodney tried to recall what the saline vats were. Had they encountered them yet? He didn't remember anything that could be described as a vat of saline.

He heard Carson sigh. "Yes, that's where we're going. The below levels, but in an area we've been to before and it checked out as safe."

"Excellent!" Rodney clapped his hands and leapt to his feet. "What do we need? Is there another one of those tool belts you have? I need something to take notes with. What are we doing? What are saline vats, anyway?"

He trailed off as he realised Carson wasn't even trying to answer his questions. After a moment Carson looked at John. "Is this why you wanted me here? So you'd have someone to foist him off on occasionally?"

John shook his head. "That's why I decided to invite him to bed with me. I figured when he got like this I could distract him more easily if I could just kiss him."

"Does that work?"

"Pretty well," John said. "Not so much when he really gets going. But if you can catch him early, you can sometimes derail him for an hour or so."

Rodney had his hands on his hips and was giving them both equally not-amused glares. It wasn't as though John wasn't telling the truth, but he was making it sound like it happened a *lot.*

"Excuse me," he tried to interrupt them.

"So, you'll be wanting to grab your laptop? Or would a datapad do as well?" Carson asked him, and Rodney *knew* he was asking just to distract him again.

"Datapad?" That sounded positively star trekkian. God! Transporters, datapads, ray guns! What would they find next? Androids? Giant, glowing balls of light that ate your head?

OK, maybe they could pass on that one.

"Datapad?" he repeated, since Carson wasn't even getting out of bed. "Come on! You can't just say something like that then sit there just grinning at me. If you made it up I'm going to be very unhappy."

"Um," John cleared his throat. "Actually, Dr. Myers' team found them about a week before everyone left. I guess in all the chaos, not everyone heard about it."

Rodney stared in disbelief at John. He glanced at Carson, who had also obviously heard about it. "Am I the only one who didn't know? Does it not say 'Chief Science Officer' on my uniform?"

"You're not wearing your uniform," Carson pointed out, giving Rodney's waist-region a nod. Rodney thought there was something a bit odd about Carson's quirk of a smile, so he glanced down. Right. He was naked.

"Hang on." John walked over and held up his hand to Rodney's chest.

"Hey!" Rodney yelped, as he realised John was holding a grease pencil. But he held still as John wrote on him. Reading it upside-down, he saw John writing "Chief Science Officer" on Rodney's chest.

Rodney grabbed the pencil once John was through, and John held still as Rodney wrote on him. "Head Dork (Acting)."

"Hey!" John protested. He started to wipe at the writing and Rodney slapped his hand down.

Then he looked at Carson, who shook his head and backed away -- which meant he got out of bed and left the blanket where it belonged. Rodney and John advanced and Carson continued backing up. He ended up against the wall, however, and Rodney and John moved forward, trapping him there.

John took the pencil from Rodney, which Rodney protested but allowed.

"This is very much not necessary," Carson objected.

"Hold still," John commanded.

Amazingly, Carson held still. Rodney wondered if it was because he knew it was inevitable, or if it was the particular way John had said it. Rodney peeked downward, to check.

Yup. Tone of voice.

John finished writing on Carson's chest, and stepped back so Carson could look down. Rodney grinned. It said "Chief Medical Officer and Maintenance," in big letters. Underneath, in smaller print, it said "Ass Property of JS/RM."

"It's a good thing you didn't use a permanent marker," Carson said sternly.

"Why is that?" Rodney gave him an innocent look, and tried to remember where he'd left any of his sharpies. He was losing them pretty much constantly, but Radek had a talent for locating them. Radek wasn't here, of course, which meant he'd have to wait.

"You know, instead of working on any repairs, I think I'm going to sit by the window and watch the ocean. For eight hours."

Rodney pouted. "If I promise not to permanently deface your skin, will you show me the saline vats?"

"No marker, no tattoos, no anything," Carson said.

"Piercings?" John offered.

Carson looked at him, briefly. "I've already-- Look, I'm telling Rodney that he--"

"Where?" Rodney asked. He hadn't seen any piercings, and he'd had several thorough examinations of Carson's body. Hadn't seen anything that looked like a hole or grown-over scar, either, but he hadn't really been looking for those. He started trying to check the obvious spots.

"Do you *mind*?" Carson snapped, pushing Rodney's hand away from his nipple.

"Not until you tell us where," Rodney said.

Carson folded his arms and glared at him. "You'll have to figure it out on your own. But right *now* I am going to get dressed and get to work. Whether you follow or not is your own concern."

He stepped around John and headed to his closet. Rodney looked at John, who looked back and waggled his eyebrows eagerly.

"It's good to have a goal," John said.

"I thought our goal was to have sex in every square meter of Atlantis," Rodney said. But he went over to the dresser drawer he'd stashed some clothing in. John did the same, and they all proceeded to get dressed. Rodney tried to focus on the fact he was finally going to get learn how some of Carson's gizmos worked and how he went about fixing them.

"Not his ears," John said. Rodney looked up in time to see Carson pulling his head away from John's hand. "Well, not his *right* ear at any rate." John was trying to crane his head around to see Carson's other ear.

Rodney nodded. "One down, twenty seven to go." It was a completely random number, but it sounded good. He knew that by the time they reached 'seven' they'd have forgot which number they were on, anyhow.

Assuming Carson ever let them get to 'two.'

"Stop that!" Carson snapped, hitting the modulator with the wrench.

"Stop what?" Rodney's voice came up the access tunnel at him, and Carson glanced down.

"Not you. The modulator isn't re-setting."

"So you hit it?" John asked from the hatchway below them both, sounding amused. "Is that in the manual?"

"Like you've never had to hit something to make it work?" Carson looked down, past Rodney. He could just see John's face as he peered up the tunnel.

He'd brought them here after spending all of ten seconds trying to talk them out of following him around. They'd been doing this for the last two weeks -- in between having sex in all sorts of places he'd rather not think about, and trying to get enough sleep they could have more sex.

Whenever there was some repair work Carson had to do, Rodney would leap up and find his tool belt and act for all the world like a six year old who'd been told he could help daddy in the garage. John, at least, made no effort to pretend he cared about the actual work. He said he was just coming along because it was more interesting than sitting alone in his room.

Carson knew he was really there to make sure no one got eaten by alien bugs; John was even wearing his side-arm. He'd tried explaining that Murdoc kept him away from things like the lab where the nanovirus had been kept -- and if he did have to go there, Murdoc would be able to warn him how not to release the things on accident.

But whenever he mentioned Murdoc, Rodney and John got weird looks in their eyes and seemed even more determined to follow him. So he'd stopped saying Murdoc's name and stopped trying to argue them out of following him. He'd even got a second tool belt from the maintenance workshop for Rodney to use. Not all the tools would work for him as he wasn't an official repairman, but Carson had simply removed those from the kit before handing it over.

It hadn't mattered -- Rodney never actually did any work until Carson had finished repairing the thing. He listened as Carson explained what he was doing while making the repairs, and he asked questions that demonstrated he at understood what was going on. But he never wanted to do any of the actual repair work himself.

As soon as Carson declared it fit, however, Rodney would swoop in and start pressing buttons and flipping switches. Carson had figured out quickly not to bother telling him what the thing did or how it worked. It kept Rodney more amused to play with it, so he and John would just sit back and let him.

Carson made sure not to try any repairs on things Rodney could blow himself up with.

So far things had gone more or less well. Rodney was happy, John seemed happy, and Carson didn't find himself thinking about home quite as often as he'd feared. He was a bit more tired than usual, but that had obvious reasons and ones he wasn't complaining about.

"Can I take a look?" Rodney asked, crawling up the ladder, pressing Carson against one wall. The tunnel was big enough for the two of them to be side by side, but the ladder itself wasn't. Carson sighed and hung onto the rungs, swinging towards the edge of the ladder while Rodney climbed up to look at the modulator.

"Don't fall," John said calmly, and Carson saw that he'd climbed into the tunnel, now, and was at the ladder just below where Rodney had been.

It occurred to him that there might be another place John wanted to add to their list of places Carson could no longer be in without blushing.

"What does this do?" Rodney asked, pointing to the em-detector.

Carson sighed, and didn't even bother double-checking the diagrams in his head. "It lets us know whether or not the level of helium in the atmosphere is too high."

"Helium?" Rodney frowned. "We've never detected any helium in the atmosphere; why would they need to regulate it?" He'd already stopped looking at the modulator and Carson wondered if he could squeeze past him to have another go at fixing it. Not yet, he guessed.

"This area of the city was often used for guests who needed the environments of their quarters to be adjusted for comfort," he began.

"That is *so* cool!" Rodney interrupted. "What else could they do besides add or remove helium?"

Before Carson could answer, John asked, "How do you know that?"

Carson looked down to find John frowning slightly at him. "It's in the schematics," he said. The same answer he gave every time one of them asked him how he knew something. Eventually they'd catch on, wouldn't they?

"But that's... doesn't seem like something a repairman would have to know."

"You have to know what a thing is and what it's used for, so you'll know if it's working properly."

John didn't look convinced, which didn't make much sense to Carson. But John didn't say anything, so Carson turned his attention back to the modulator. Rodney was still poking at it, and having no more success than he had. He waited patiently for Rodney to grow bored, so he could get back to working on it.

Life, John thought, was pretty damn good. Granted there were those life-sucking aliens to contend with and a constant diet of MREs and bizarre Athosian dishes, and the strain of being acting commander when really he still hated authority and didn't find that being one made him like it any better. The rooms were not all that comfortable, and there was no ESPN and the thing they called 'beer' was like drinking herbal tea.

But really, in spite of all that, life was pretty damn good. He got to save the world. He got to fly the coolest damn aircraft in the universe. He got to visit alien planets in a galaxy no one had ever even heard of a half-dozen years ago.

And he was sleeping with two really hot guys who were handsome, intelligent, and had evil senses of humour.

He and Carson were sitting at a table in Carson's repair workshop. Carson was fiddling with a gizmo, and they were both keeping an eye on Rodney, on the other side of the wide table, who was also fiddling with a gizmo. Different sort of gizmo, and Carson had named it when he'd handed it to Rodney to play with. John couldn't remember more than the first two syllables of the words he'd used, so he just called it the gizmo.

He couldn't for the life of him figure out what it did, and, it seemed, neither could Rodney. He'd been poking it, turning dials, making lights come on and go off. He'd talk to himself excitedly, then frown, then start again. John had given Carson a raised eyebrow earlier, wondering if he was going to offer Rodney any help. Carson had just grinned in a way that made John realise that something was up, and didn't say anything.

"OK, that's it," Rodney finally said, tossing the gizmo back onto the table. Carson stopped what he was doing and looked up. Rodney shook his head. "I don't have a clue."

Carson set down the tool he'd been using. He opened his mouth and Rodney raised a hand.

"Ah! No, wait. Don't tell me. I'll get this. I...." He looked down at the gizmo, glumly. "I don't have a clue. How does it work?"

"It doesn't," Carson said.

Rodney and John both stared at Carson, who just sat there looking for all the world like he hadn't just said what he'd said.

"Excuse me?" Rodney asked.

"It doesn't work."

"It's broken?" Rodney looked dumbfounded. John stifled a grin.

"No," Carson said, shaking his head. "It never worked. It's a dummy."

There was a long silence. Rodney looked down at the gizmo, back at Carson -- over to John apparently to check if he'd fallen into an alternate universe where everybody spoke their own brand of English -- then back at Carson. "A dummy."

"Aye. It's designed to be a model, to demonstrate what a real working unit would look like. The lights go on to make it look real, but it doesn't actually do anything."

John was impressed at how straight Carson was keeping his face. Rodney looked like he was about to leap over the table onto Carson. Rodney moved his jaw up and down a bit, and they both waited patiently. Eventually, Rodney managed, "You let me sit here for an hour fiddling with a dummy unit that doesn't work?"

"It doesn't even have internal components, except the lights." Carson was still remaining very calm. John found himself wanting to leap on him, too, but for a wholly different reason than Rodney probably wanted.

"You..." Rodney stopped. He tried again. "You--" he looked down at the dummy gizmo and picked it up. "An *hour*??"

Carson shrugged. "It kept you busy and happy and I got some work done." There was an ominous pause, then he added, "It was John's idea."

Which let John know just *exactly* how evil Carson was. How he'd ever thought the man was mild and gentle? "It was *not* my idea!" He turned to Rodney. "I swear!"

Rodney wasn't buying it. He was glaring at John, and folded his arms across his chest. Carson went back to tinkering on his gizmo, and didn't even crack a smile.

"It was *not* my idea," he said again because -- it really hadn't been. He reached over and poked Carson hard in the arm. "I am going to get you for this."

Carson raised his head and gave John an extremely innocent look. "You're denying it?"

"Of *course* I'm denying it! I had nothing to do with this! Rodney, I really didn't."

"Like you had nothing to do with the toothpaste incident?" Rodney arched an eyebrow at him.

"That was to get you back for pretending my football tape got "accidently" erased!"

"Which was my revenge for you sneaking in and erasing half of my equations from the desktop!"

"I saved those to disk, first. I mean -- I was just getting *you* back for getting friendly under the table during that meeting with Weir."

Rodney blinked at him. "That actually wasn't a joke. I really meant that."

"You *meant* to get me hard during a staff meeting?"

Rodney shrugged. "I was bored."

"So you thought you'd make me want to throw you down onto the table and suck you off while Elizabeth was talking about trade schedules with the Anergini?"

Rodney grinned happily. "Woulda been more fun, don't you think?"

John shook his head. And he'd been thinking how nice it was to have two lovers with an evil sense of humor? He wasn't sure what revenge to take with Carson -- it would take some careful thought. He looked over to see if Carson was showing any signs of breaking, and admitting the truth.

He frowned. Carson was concentrating on his gizmo, but his face.... He looked like he was having a conversation. He wasn't talking out loud, but he was making expressions that made John think he was watching a tv show with the sound turned off.

Or that he was watching someone have a telepathic conversation. John didn't like that at all. He knew that Carson could interact with that interface thing he called Murdoc. Why he'd named it after a villain from MacGyver, John didn't know. But he'd assured them it wasn't at all sentient.

So why have such a long conversation with it? John reached over and nudged Carson. "Hey. Turn that thing off for a second."

Carson blinked at him as though refocusing his eyes. "What?" He glanced down at the gizmo he was working on. "It isn't--"

"No, the interface. Murdoc. Turn it off for a second."

Carson just stared at him for a second without saying anything. His eyes looked sad. "It doesn't turn off."

"I know you can't take it off or de-activate it or anything. But just... turn off the screen and radio and whatever. Just for a bit." He wasn't even really sure why he was asking -- except that it creeped him out to be reminded that there was something in Carson's head besides Carson.

But Carson shook his head. "It doesn't turn off. The interface is always displayed."

"It's always on?" Rodney repeated. "The... stuff you see in your head, the list and diagrams and instructions?"

"It isn't always all of them on at once, but... yes. The display is always on."

"Even when we... Um..." How Rodney could be shy about saying the word 'sex' when he freely engaged in it, John didn't know.

"Always, Rodney." That explained the sadness in his eyes, John thought.

"Oh." Rodney subsided, and simply looked at him. He glanced at John, and John could clearly see the demand there. Fix this. Help me fix this. It was the same look he'd had when he'd come and told John that Carson couldn't go home. The same reason why John had agreed to help, agreed to stay on Atlantis, when all he could have said about Carson at the time was that they were friendly acquaintences.

What Rodney wanted, John tried to give him. Trouble was, he had no idea what they could do.

"It's all right," Carson said in what was meant to be a reassuring tone. The quiet upset was gone and he looked for all the world like there was nothing more wrong than a gizmo that wasn't working yet.

John reached over and took Carson's hand. "It never shuts off?"

"Well... if there's nothing left to do, then it would shut off. Until something needed repair. But that's only happened a dozen times or so. A city the size of Atlantis -- and there only one of me -- chances are I'll not get everything fixed." He shrugged as though it didn't bother him.

"It's already happened a dozen times?" Rodney asked, in that 'seizing upon an idea' tone he got.

But Carson shook his head. "Back when they had a full staff."

He was staring at his gizmo again, and John wondered if he or Rodney would be the first one to get the question out.

It was him. "How do you know?" John asked, trying to remain calm.

"Hm?" Carson looked up. Then he frowned, confused. "It's in the reports."

"*What* reports?" John asked.

"The maintenance reports."

"From... back when the Ancients lived here?" John clarified. Rodney was still gaping, speechlessly.

Carson nodded slowly, still looking confused. John looked over at Rodney to make sure *he* hadn't slipped into the alternate-English dimension. "And you didn't think to mention this?"

"Mention the reports? But they-- oh." Carson blinked. "Oh, no -- they've not got anything in them that would help. Just lots of 'we fixed this, we fixed that, Gjurshin broke his damn telescope again and we've asked Cuttler to take it away from him.' There's nothing about... the sort of things you need. History or culture or--"

"Gjurshin? Telescope?" Rodney interrupted.

"I don't know," Carson said. "That's what the report says, but I couldn't tell you any more than that. I don't have access to Atlantis databases, Rodney. Just the reports -- which were written for people who knew what they meant."

"Oh." Rodney nodded and sat back. "I guess it would be rather like trying to figure out a world's culture by reading the cliff notes from a single book."

John watched as they both dropped the issue. Carson was about to go back to his gizmo, and Rodney looked like he was going to jump up and find some other thing to play with. For a moment, John felt like the only genius in the room. He cleared his throat. When they both looked at him, he asked, "You can *read* the reports?"

After that, the schedule changed. They didn't let Carson do repairs unless he insisted they were urgent -- which they hadn't been, so far. They didn't have nearly as much sex, either, which John couldn't say he *liked* but as he'd been the one to help Rodney yell at Carson about it, he couldn't really complain.

Instead, for the last few days, they would get up early -- for sex -- then grab breakfast before heading to the archives. Then they'd sit Carson down and open up a database pretty much at random. Carson would start reading and Rodney and John would start typing. John was taking the straight dictation and Rodney was making notes about anything and everything that occurred to him about whatever Carson was saying.

Carson had explained how he *didn't* read Atlantean, that Murdoc was the one putting everything into Gaelic for him. John pointed out that Carson could translate from Gaelic to English. Then Carson had gone on for ten minutes about how limited the vocabulary was, that it was only words relevant to the maintenance work. Rodney had fielded that one, saying that even if he only translated every tenth, twentieth, or hundredth word, it would give the linguists enough to go on to figure out the rest, eventually.

So now they were spending their time going through as much of the database as possible. When they'd stop for a break every couple hours or so, he and Rodney would take turns glaring at Carson before deciding who got to run down for snacks.

The second time he and Rodney had played rock-paper-scissors over errand duty, Carson had piped up.

"There's a food and beverage dispenser right over there." He'd pointed to a flat panel on the wall. John had wondered if the phrase 'strangle you if you don't start telling us stuff' hadn't penetrated Carson's head. But then Carson had sighed. "No, it'd not be stocked any longer. Never mind."

He and Rodney had sent Carson out for snacks, that time.

Since then, John had to admit, Carson was getting better about saying things out loud. Not the translation stuff, but things that apparently Carson thought too trivial to notice. They'd walk down the hallways on their way back to Carson's room and he'd stop, and activate a panel or odd looking gizmo and explain what it did.

Rodney had taken to carrying about a datapad. John had taken to carrying around cough drops, because he'd figured out that positive reinforcement was probably helping Carson remember to share. One blowjob per Ancient secret revealed was a pretty fair trade -- especially since Rodney would get so aroused from watching them that pretty much every night ended in fucking.

Which generally led John back to the affirmation that life was pretty damn good. Even better, when Weir and the rest of the team returned, they'd find several months' worth of work done for them, and the geeks could go off and play with partially translated files for weeks to come. That would, he hoped, distract anybody from noticing that the three of them had moved in together.

Well, no, it probably wouldn't. But it would at least give folks a reason not to say a damn thing to their faces.

John hoped. He'd never been twisted up about the fact he was into guys -- kept it a secret when necessary, and didn't when it wasn't. And Elizabeth had done a good job of creating a pretty non-bigoted group of people who only cared who was sleeping with who because it was something to gossip about, and not because they thought it should stop.

He didn't know if that extended to group sex, though. He hadn't heard about anyone involved in anything like this before the team had left for Earth. Teyla had talked about her own people's acceptance of homosexual couples, but never mentioned groups.

John hadn't thought about it much himself after the first day. As the day of the team's return drew closer, though, he found himself thinking about it more. The only thoughts he found himself having involved it maybe not even working once everyone returned. So he distracted himself by pretending that giving Weir several gigs of translated information would stop anyone from asking why Rodney and John no longer slept in their own rooms.

There was always the alternative of them going back to a twosome. John didn't seriously think that would happen because -- Rodney wasn't giving Carson up anytime this century. Rodney didn't seem to have a clue, of course, genius that he was. He acted like this was just because it was fun, and because he'd been coveting Carson's ass for months. But John could see the funny, soft look in his eyes when he was watching Carson sleep.

And John wasn't going to give Rodney up without a fight that had no business being fought. He might not be twitterpated like Carson was, but this whole insane affair was the best thing he'd ever had, and he wasn't going to let bad attitudes, or even potential bad attitudes, ruin it for him.

But maybe if they could keep everyone going in a few new directions when they first got back, they could put off the shocked revelations and stares for awhile. Long enough that by the time anyone realised it, it would be too late to do anything about it.

Until then, he was going to enjoy himself as much as he could -- in as many places as he could while there was no one to threaten to drop him into the ocean for having sex on her desk.

The rest of the Atlantis team were due back in an hour. Carson stood nervously in the middle of his medical research lab, wondering why he was worried about it at all. So, the others returned, life went back to... not normal, but whatever it had been before they'd left for Earth. He had a few things to look forward to, at least. Dr. Weir was supposed to be bringing back five new staff for the medical team, including an emergency room doctor. None of the current doctors' speciality was really emergency medicine, and they'd proven over again how much they needed one.

Having a few more nurses would also help spread out the workload a great deal; having additional personnel would bolster everyone's departments. Rodney had been talking about it just the previous night, listing projects he had just waiting for people to assign them to. He'd talked about it for nearly half an hour before Carson and John got him into bed by simply starting without him.

That was something Carson was trying not to think about. Things were going to change. None of them had said anything about it, and Carson got the feeling they were each waiting for someone else to begin. They'd have to do it today, because they'd not be able to spend the night together without talking about whether or not they still were.

Right at the moment he was alone; John and Rodney had said something about needing to get ready for the team's return. Carson had been told to wait there -- given strict orders not to wander off alone, no matter what Murdoc said.

He had a bad feeling there would be water balloons or red dye involved in whatever the two were planning, so he'd been happy to stay out of it.

But that had left him alone to either think about what was going to happen, or to read the repair manual in an attempt to not think. Of course he had work to do as well, but he couldn't focus long enough to do any of his research. He'd neglected it for weeks, already. Finally he'd taken up pacing back and forth and wondering what on earth -- or Atlantis -- John and Rodney were up to.

The door slid open and John tumbled through, laughing and stumbling forward again as Rodney shoved at him. Carson bit back the words 'where the hell have you been' because god knew he didn't want to be the mature one in this affair. The *only* mature one.

His two lovers came to a stop, half-leaning on each other and still giggling like schoolboys.

"Am I allowed out of my room now?" he asked, not bothering to hide how testy he felt. There they were, not even acting like they cared that  
tonight things might be going back to before. Of course -- they might not. They still had each other, didn't they?

John and Rodney both looked at him with equally startled expressions. "Er, yes? Why are you stuck here?" Rodney asked.

Carson folded his arms. "'And you're not to go wandering off anywhere, while we're out. That means no repairs, no just popping down to the workshop to fix something without me watching, no sneaking down the hallway to activate a communications panel no one knew existed and calling the next planet over for pizza.' Shall I go on, or just skip ahead to the part where I had to still be here when the pair of you returned?"

Rodney closed his mouth. Then opened it again, "It wasn't exactly--"

"It was," Carson interrupted. John and Rodney were still almost leaning against each other. Arms and hips touching like they were stuck in a cabinet, rather than in the middle of a laboratory. Carson felt irritated by the sight -- he brushed it off as nerves.

"Er, oh. Sorry, I didn't... actually mean you had to stay in here." Rodney looked thoughtful, then nodded. "No, I think I did." He grinned.

Carson wasn't terribly amused. "Well, now that you're here am I free to go?"

"You could have called," John said, tapping the radio on his ear. They'd taken to wearing them again just that morning. Trying to get back out of holiday mindset, Carson supposed.

"I didn't want to risk finding out what you were up to," he admitted. "In case Dr. Weir asks, I want to deny everything."

He'd expected a protest, or even mischievous laughter. What he got were two shocked expressions. John and Rodney looked at each other, seeming a lot more worried than any of their previous pranks should have warranted.

"You're not planning on bombarding the returning expedition with water balloons?" he asked, confused.

"Balloons? No..." Rodney's worried look gave way to a grin. "Ohh, that's good. Well, not so much given that the gateroom did flood, that one time. Wouldn't want them to think they'd come back to the wrong reality and everyone was drowning. But I like the way you think."

"Actually, we were-- should we show him?" John asked Rodney.

"I think it'd be easier." Rodney walked forward and took Carson by the arm.

"What are you doing?" Carson didn't fight him off, but he wasn't fully convinced he wanted to go with them, either.

"Showing you," Rodney said.

Carson let them haul him out of his lab and down the hallway. Neither John nor Rodney seemed willing to explain further, apparently thinking that showing him what they'd done would explain everything. They took him down the hallway and turned left at the intersection, heading towards the science labs.

They'd done something in Rodney's lab, then, and Carson guessed it had something to do with adding to John's list.

But they made another turn before then, and Carson consulted the map Murdoc gave him. There was nothing down this way but several of the scientists' quarters, and, further along, the pronan balconies. If Rodney and John were thinking of holding a celebration at sunset, this would make a bit of sense.

They walked past all the occupied quarters and made another turn. There was nothing down this way but empty rooms. At the end of the hallway was a transporter, but otherwise it was just a dead end. John and Rodney stopped in front of a door almost all the way down the hall, and Carson looked at the blueprints.

His mouth dropped open.

"Damn, you looked!" John said, pouting.

"It's..." The door slid open and they tugged him inside. Carson went, stumbling slightly. The room matched the blueprint exactly -- no surprise there, but he still wasn't sure he believed his eyes. The quarters along this hallway were for families, each of them with two, three, even four bedrooms. This one had three, as well as the front living area and a large, private balcony. There were large windows in one of the bedrooms -- he could see through the open door, part of one window. There was blue sky and sunshine streaming in.

He looked around and noticed two things right away. The first was that Rodney and John had already moved all their things in. The second was that they had moved *his* things in, as well.

"We were going to ask first," John began.

Rodney jumped in. "Then I decided that it would be more fun to simply do all the work ourselves so you'd feel obligated to give us both back  
rubs as a reward for our hard labour."

"We... live here?" Carson turned around, slowly. There wasn't much by way of personal effects filing up the place; it looked quite bare, in fact. Smaller quarters would have felt more homey, but with three people sharing space...

He turned to them. John and Rodney were grinning again, and John was practically bouncing on his toes.

"You like it? We picked it out a few days ago. Seemed to be the best one down here and it's close enough to the transporter that it doesn't   
matter that it's a bit farther away from everything." John was giving him a look that Carson had mentally dubbed the happy-puppy look.

"We... all three of us?" He'd expected a long, heartfelt discussion about matters. Perhaps even arguing, and saying very difficult things about not wanting to split anyone up but not being able to go on as before.

Instead they'd just moved, and everything was settled.

"Well... unless you don't want to?" Rodney sounded surprised at the idea.

"Oh, I do. I very much do." Carson looked around the room again, a bit surprised at how easy it was to say so.

"Come on and see the rest!" John bounced forward and took Carson by the arm again. "And no fair looking, this time." John gestured at his  
head, and Carson happily removed the map from the display.

He let John drag him from the living room and through the entire apartment. Kitchenette, tiny but serviceable eating area. One room already taken over as Rodney's office, the other more or less empty but for a few bits of furniture. John said it was his to do with, or they could share. Carson didn't know that he needed office space in his home as well, but simply nodded and let John drag him to the next room. The bedroom had a large bed right in the center of one wall and to the side were the huge windows he'd seen before. The door to the balcony opened out from that room, and Carson let himself be pulled outside.

"Isn't this great?" Rodney asked, taking a deep breath. "All that fine salty air and cold wind, which is really perfect for someone with sensitive lungs but other people, I'm told, don't care so much about one person's comfort as long as the view is good."

He was grinning, so Carson took the faux-complaint as intended. "It's lovely," he agreed. "Reminds me--" He stopped, then forced himself to  
say, "Reminds me a bit of home."

"Well, it is home," Rodney said in a blithe tone. "Not that you aren't welcome to rearrange your stuff, but may I remind you that some of us already did the heavy lifting and are still waiting for our backrubs."

"Rodney, none of us owns anything heavy to have been moved," Carson reminded him.

Rodney frowned. "Yes, well, but we still packed up everything and moved it. I think I pulled a muscle somewhere." He felt around his shoulder as if looking for the source of pain.

"I'll prescribe you a painkiller," Carson told him, unable to stop his sudden grin. Rodney pouted, so Carson just kissed him.

"Oh. Is that the painkiller? Because it might be working." Rodney looked thoughtful. "I think the dosage is too low."

"Do you, now?" Carson leaned in and kissed him again. When he finally let Rodney go, Rodney had a rather sappy smile on his face.

On his other side, John cleared his throat. When Carson looked over, John rubbed his own shoulder. "Ow?"

"Yes, all right," Carson said, and gave him two kisses of his own. He got an equally sappy grin on his face.

"See? I told you," Rodney said.

"All right, you win." John shook his head. He said to Carson, "I said you might want to be in on picking out the place."

Glancing over his shoulder, Carson shook his head. "No, it's perfect." The location really was excellent -- the transporter only a few moments' walk away, and the labs not far in case one felt like walking. The space was definitely welcome, although, "There's one next door a  
bit smaller, only two bedrooms; this one doesn't seem like too much space?" He couldn't imagine what they'd even use the third room for.

Rodney and John grew still, wearing matching expressions of innocence and guilelessness. "No, we liked this one," John said.

"What are you up to?" Carson asked, looking at each of them closely.

Rodney glanced at his watch. "Hey, look, we have just enough time to break in the bed before Weir comes back."

"What are you two up to?" Carson repeated, even as he let them pull him back inside, towards the bed.

"Um, having sex? I know we're not naked, yet, but give us two seconds." Rodney demonstrated by taking off his shirt.

"What are you two up to?" Carson repeated. He didn't stop John from pulling his own shirt off, though neither did he help when John began  
undoing his trousers.

"Rodney, John, what are you up to?"

Rodney was naked but for his underwear, now, and John was rapidly catching up. Carson ignored the fact that *he* was fully naked and being nudged towards the bed by Rodney.

"We're trying to have sex, but if it's going to be this much trouble, I don't think we'll bother." Rodney pushed him down onto the mattress and Carson rolled over onto his back. Rodney belied his words by lying down on top of him and kissing him, hands going right to his groin as though the foreplay had been waking him up that morning.

Which it probably had been.

"You know bloody well what I'm talking about," Carson said, getting only a few words out at a time. Talking became more difficult when Rodney and John started taking turns kissing him -- not to mention the fact it was getting more difficult to think. John was doing something  
to Rodney to make him moan in a very lovely way.

"Did you want us to talk you through it?" John asked. "Right now, Rodney's got his hand on your cock. I'm playing with Rodney's ass. Pretty soon someone is going to be shouting."

He ought to concede defeat and let them get on with it. But Carson frowned at John. "If you think that distracting me will make me forget you two are up to something--" His head fell back and he swallowed a shout.

Christ, but a man ought to give warning before sticking his fingers up there. He tried to refocus on what he'd been saying, but Rodney -- or John, or maybe... oh yes, that was definitely the both of them. He made a very undignified whimpering sound and saw John smirk.

"Don't think this gets you out of answering," Carson managed.

"So you want us to stop?" John asked.

Carson lifted his head. "If you stop, I will go back to asking you what you've done, doing, or plan to do that you refuse to tell me about."

Rodney and John looked at each other. They debated silently, with head motions and shoulder shrugs. They left their fingers where they were, though, so Carson didn't have to yell at them. Not yet.

Well, then, it wasn't like his own hands were broken, were they? Carson reached over and ran a fingernail very, very lightly down the shaft of John's cock.

"Jesus Christ!" John leapt practically off the bed. He was right back at Carson's side, though, kissing him like swallowing Carson's tongue was the only way to save the city from certain disaster. Rodney was muttering something in that distracted, turned on beyond belief way he had and Carson reached out with one leg and wrapped it around Rodney's waist.

"Right, right," Rodney said, and he shifted around. Carson was hoping for a fucking, but didn't feel the need to argue when Rodney leaned down and put his mouth on Carson's cock.

For several moments everything was going perfectly well and Carson thought that maybe Rodney and John really did deserve backrubs, later. Not that he'd have denied them had they simply asked. But--

"John! Oh my god, look!" Rodney was sitting up, his hand on Carson's no-longer-being-sucked cock.

Well, so, they'd finally found it. Carson sighed and didn't object when John stopped what he was doing and scooted down to look.

"Why aren't you wearing the piercing?" John asked, after several long seconds of silence.

"I didn't want to explain it, now, did I?" Carson raised his head to stare at them. He swallowed as Rodney fingered him right where the piercing hole was.

"To who?" John asked, looking confused.

Carson raised an eyebrow. "Alien city, faraway galaxy, aliens and accidents and how many times have I stripped *you* down to get you into a pair of hospital pajamas?"

John looked abashed; Rodney grinned. "I thought you let the nurses do that."

"Yes, well, they're the ones I didn't need knowing I had a piercing, aren't they? The first time anyone inserted a catheter, everyone in the bloody infirmary would know."

Rodney made a face. "Can we not talk about catheters when we're in the middle of sex?"

"*You're* the one who stopped and who brought up the matter in the first place," Carson pointed out.

"You don't like the idea of having something shoved up your--" John began.

"Ow! OW!" Rodney whipped his hands down to cover himself. "Can we *please* not completely kill the mood, here?"

John laughed and waggled his eyebrows.

"Oh do NOT tell me you're that kinky," Rodney told him.

"Did I say anything?" John asked in a tone of innocence.

"You didn't have to. You had that look like you wanted to expand my boundaries and trick me into deciding it would be a good idea. But no one is putting anything *inside* my penis, thank you very much."

John held up his hands in surrender. "I suppose I'll just keep after you to let me tie up your--"

"Are we done now? I have work I could be doing." Rodney gestured towards the room he'd made into an office.

Carson pushed himself up onto his elbows. "What, Rodney, you don't care to have a bit of leather and--"

"That's it." Rodney stood up and stepped away from the bed. "When you two are through talking about exceedingly unarousing things, I'll be back. Until then, I'm going to go work on some equations."

John laughed; Carson looked at him. "I *have* a bit of leather we could use."

John's eyes went wide and he choked back his laugh. "You... oh yeah? I didn't see it when we packed up your stuff... unless... that small belt?"

Carson nodded. "I don't know where you've put it, of course." He looked around the room, wondering which drawers were his, anyway.

"You're just doing this to see if I'm serious about leaving," Rodney said.

"No, no," John said, waving a hand as he headed for the closet. "Go. We'll scream when we're done."

"And before," Carson said.

Rodney didn't look amused. "You're joking. You don't really... oh, damn."

John and Carson both looked at him. Rodney nodded towards the small clock on the dresser.

Weir and the rest of the team were due back in ten minutes.

John dropped the belt, and leapt back onto the bed. "Just enough time to get rid of these before we embarrass ourselves." Then he slipped  
his mouth onto Carson's cock, and Carson realised he really *had* forgot to find out what the two of them had been up to.

They somehow made it to the gateroom, fully dressed and completely presentable, two minutes before the gate activated. Carson couldn't help but tug on his shirt once more, even though he knew that not only was it not long enough to hide anything, but that there really was no evidence remaining.

"Relax," John said. "No one will care that you got some while they were away."

Carson thought about hitting him -- and noticed that Rodney had rolled a large cart into the room. "What's that for?"

"Stuff," Rodney said, and he set it aside and joined them, facing the gate. Carson realised he must be expecting things for his lab.

The wormhole activated -- Carson noted that the terminology the Atlanteans used translated more or less literally into "whooshed." A second passed, and Dr. Weir walked through the event horizon and into the gateroom.

"Welcome to Atlantis," Rodney said. "We are your humble hosts." He put his hands together and bowed.

"Ignore him," John said. "He hasn't had any breakfast today."

Weir just grinned at them and walked up to stand before Carson and John. Behind her, people were following her back into Atlantis.

"I trust everything went all right in our absence?" she asked John.

"Everything went fine. No trouble at all. Unless you consider that we're almost out of oatmeal."

Carson coughed, then just smiled when Elizabeth gave him a curious look. But then he smiled again and it was very obviously the diplomat's smile. She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder, and brought out a small parcel wrapped in paper.

"Here, Carson. I brought these back for you."

"What--" He took it, and pulled back the paper. Behind Weir, people were just... milling. Making room for the rest of the expedition team, but not going anywhere.

Inside the wrapped paper were a half dozen scones. He looked up at her. "Are these--?"

She nodded. "Potato. I tried one myself, and they're not bad."

He was surprised. He'd listed them among the items he'd given Rodney, not really expecting to get them. Certainly not once Rodney and John remained behind in Atlantis. Obviously, Rodney had passed the list on to Weir. "Oh... Elizabeth, thank you."

"And you have enough to share," Rodney said, peering over his shoulder. "Excellent."

Carson gave him a dirty look. "I don't see how this wee batch is enough to share." He wrapped the paper back around them, knowing he'd end up sharing them with Rodney and John but there was no need to let them know that.

Dr. Weir stepped aside, then, and Katherine, his head nurse, stepped into her place. "Here, Dr. Beckett."

Blinking in surprise, he took the item she handed to him. It was a small iPod.

She grinned and said, "I've loaded it with all the new albums that came out since we came here, of the stuff you like."

Carson hadn't thought he'd be further surprised, but he was. "*Really*?"

"What is it, a thousand hours of bagpipe music?" John frowned.

Katherine shook her head. "No. Lil' Kim, Black Eyed Peas, Foxy Brown... I had my little sister help me pick the albums."

Carson couldn't believe it. He'd had discussions with Katherine about modern music, comparing their tastes and finding that they didn't quite overlap. He'd never thought she would remember so well what he liked, though.

He looked up to find John and Rodney staring at him. "You listen to hip hop?" John asked.

"It's too late to change your mind," Carson said, and thought that trying to keep his relationship with them a private matter might have been a good idea. He started to try to apologise without making things worse, but Rodney was smiling so hard he was practically beaming.

"Enjoy," Katherine said, and she moved out of the way of Dr. Stavish, who handed Carson a book.

"What in the world?" Carson took it, and turned it over. A Ian McEwan book he'd never seen before. "This is new?"

"Brand new," Stavish said. "Came out just a few days ago."

"This..." He looked over at John and Rodney, realising what they'd done. "You didn't have to--"

"Yes, we did," Rodney said easily. "I asked members of my staff to bring me back a few things. It would hardly be fair not to do the same for you, once John and I decided to remain here."

"Dr. Stavish isn't on my staff, though," Carson pointed out. "What are you--" John was taking the scones, iPod, and book out of his hands and setting them onto the cart Rodney had brought. And Dr. Stavish was walking away, and behind him was a woman he'd never met before.

"I'm Dr. Collin," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm your new ER doctor."

"OH! A pleasure, a very definite pleasure." Carson shook her hand. Then he realised she was holding out a small box. She shrugged, grinning. "It was my assignment."

He took it and opened it, discovering three tins of loose leaf tea. He looked up at her, then at Rodney.

"I might have assigned the things on your list to a few people," he said. He was looking at the crowd of people in the gateroom -- none of them making any effort to leave, but just all standing around. Looking at them.

"What have you done?" Carson asked, and Dr. Collins stepped away, to be replaced by a Private Roger Jefferson.

"Here ya go, doc," he said, handing over another book. Carson barely took it before Jefferson stepped aside to let another marine step into his place. Sergeant Anderson, it was, who handed Carson a small box. Carson peeked inside and saw a stack of DVDs. He didn't have time to pull them out to see what they were before John took them, set them on the cart, and Dr. Baturin stepped forward. He handed over two boxes of tea biscuits.

Then he stepped aside, and a marine Carson didn't know took his place. He was given another book, then another stack of CDs, then Margie Gibbons handed him a small photo album and gave him a kiss on the cheek, telling him it was direct from his cousin Muria. Carson opened the album and saw pictures -- none of which he'd ever seen before. All recent, then.

He tried to say thank you, but nothing came out of his mouth. Margie just smiled and moved away as John took the album out of his hands and set it on the cart. Susanna took her place and gave him something -- he didn't unwrap it, couldn't even begin to process what was happening. This wasn't ten items. This was dozens of people standing in the gateroom, waiting their turn.

He looked around, blinking rapidly against the tears forming, and realised that every single person returning from Earth was standing there, waiting.

Holding small gifts in their hands.

He looked at Rodney and John, and Rodney looked more smug than he had ever looked in all the time Carson had known him.

"I don't know what to say," he stammered, and he blindly accepted a few more items from people, who were all smiling and saying they hoped he liked them and Dr. McKay had been very, very explicit about what they should bring back.

He didn't even try to look closely, knowing that he was too near bawling as it was. Then Teyla stepped forward and she gave him a very tender look, and held out an envelope. He took it, surprised at its thickness. Turning it over, he read his name. Written in his mum's handwriting.

"I could not tell her where you were or why you could not go home, but I assured her you were safe and well. I am certain she believed me."

Carson nodded, still staring at the envelope. So thick, there must be a dozen or more pages inside. He looked up, knowing he was gone, knowing he was crying in front of everyone. But he couldn't help himself.

Teyla moved forward and hugged him, and he was able to hang onto her while he tried to get himself back under control. He felt a hand on his back, Rodney or John, and the silent support made it easier to finally regain his composure. For now -- he handed the envelope over to Rodney, to open it later, in private.

"She is a remarkable woman," Teyla said. "She speaks very highly of you."

"Aye, she does. Brags on me without the slightest provocation," Carson said, finding his voice with some difficulty.

"With good reason," Teyla replied, and she moved aside and the line began to move again. Carson could do nothing more than take what was handed to him and nod, trying to say thank you. But soon people were simply piling the items directly onto the cart and Carson was holding onto Rodney's arm.

Even the new team members were bringing things, people who didn't know him. Returning team members whom he barely knew, handing over gifts they'd brought back in their small bag alloted for personal items. He noticed a few people with items for John and Rodney, and was relieved they'd not gone without, themselves. But still...

"I don't understand," he finally said, watching as the cart was piled higher.

"If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have gone home at all," said Dr. Weir, and he turned, surprised to find her behind him. "Everyone is grateful, and this is a small way for us to express that."

Sandy Myers and Peter Grodin both nodded their agreement, as they added more things to the cart. "It isn't as though it were a hardship," Peter said in a gentle voice. Not like the hardship of never being allowed to return home, was clear, though unspoken.

Carson thought he was going to lose it, again, and clamped his jaw shut. Rodney slipped his arm around Carson's shoulders and pulled him in; Carson let his head fall against Rodney's and squeezed his eyes shut. The repair scroll was frozen, had been for several minutes with every item dimmed until he could barely read the words. Rodney's hand was on his head, holding him tightly, and there was another touch on his arm, a brief but tight squeeze.

He suddenly understood why Rodney and John had decided they needed quite so much space.

He pressed his face against Rodney's shoulder and tried very hard not to break down again. He could hear people moving away, still hear them placing things on the cart and John saying thank you on his behalf. He didn't try to let go, didn't care anymore who knew, who could see.

"Come on," John said, after a moment. "Let Rodney take you home."

Carson nodded and eased himself away from Rodney's embrace. Rodney kept hold of his hand, and pulled him away from the cart -- dear god, it was piled so high with gifts. Carson stared, then turned his head. He let Rodney pull him away, stumbling a bit as he tried to follow. It was hard to walk when it was hard to see.

He didn't hear anyone say a word as they left, and he hoped he'd not insulted anyone by not remaining to receive their gift.

"I was hoping you'd like them," Rodney said, quietly.

Carson nodded, fast. "I do. I do, I... just wasn't expecting anything like this." He blinked rapidly, trying to focus on Rodney's face. "You asked them all...?"

"Well, told, more like. Although no one argued. OK, I didn't even ask Kavanagh, but I didn't see him come through the gate, did you?" Rodney grinned, as though in triumph.

"That would explain the ferret cage," he said, forcing himself to joke. Better, he thought, than crying again.

Rodney just nodded. "It would, indeed." He leaned over, and gave Carson a light kiss on the cheek. They walked a bit more, then Rodney said, "You were kidding about not sharing the scones, right?"

Carson just smiled.

Weir sat down in her office chair, stretching her legs out and propping her feet on the desk. The month back on Earth had been... extraordinary. Wonderful. Harder than she'd ever expected.

She'd seen Simon, briefly. Long enough to have a painful and awkward conversation which ended with them saying their goodbyes. She'd expected it, but actually doing it had been hard.

She'd been able to immerse herself in work afterward, though, returning to the SGC and beginning the personnel selection for the new staff. She'd ended up with forty one new volunteers to supplement the original expedition -- and lost only three as people opted to remain on Earth. She had high hopes the new staff would fit in well and was looking forward to getting back to work.

John appeared at her doorway and she waved him in.

"So, how was your vacation?" she asked. He smirked, which told her everything she cared to know. She held up her hand. "Don't tell me. As long as nothing went wrong, I don't want to hear the details."

"Nothing went wrong," he said, in an obedient tone. He sat down in the chair opposite her desk, and she pulled her feet off it. "We did have one... well, several, interesting developments. But one I think you're really going to like."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Tell me."

He was grinning like a kid. "We did some translation. Well, Carson did. That thing in his head translates stuff from Atlantean to Gaelic, and he translated--"

"Into English?" She sat up straight, her fingers itching to turn on the laptop on her desk and dive into the databases.

"Not everything," John said quickly. "But... enough, I think it'll get us a lot farther ahead than where we ever hoped to get this soon."

She opened her laptop and turned it on. John sat quietly as she looked at the files they'd copied over. She opened one at random, and found the Ancient script partially written in English.

It was several minutes before she finally tore herself away from it and looked up. "We have a full report of the things we did over the last month." John began, then he stopped, turning red. "I mean, with the Atlantis technology." He turned more red. "Work related."

Elizabeth forced herself not to laugh. "Excellent. I'll look forward to reading it."

Nodding, John stood up and stepped away from her desk. She thought about stopping him, then changed her mind and let him go. After the door closed, she opened her email to double-check her suspicions.

There was a room change notice, emailed to her by Rodney, dated three days ago. All she could think was, she really hoped she didn't find all three of them in the hallways.


End file.
